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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28922391">Ordinary Miracles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadintheCloudsForever/pseuds/HeadintheCloudsForever'>HeadintheCloudsForever</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Heaven's Light Duology [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996), The Hunchback of Notre Dame - Menken/Schwartz/Parnell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Disney, Disney References, Drama &amp; Romance, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Happy Ending, Inspired by Disney, Long, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Villains</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:54:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>195,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28922391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadintheCloudsForever/pseuds/HeadintheCloudsForever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Long Fic. Paris is thrown into a world of chaos, magic, and wonder when a traveling circus comes to town, with its ringmaster seeking the city’s true prize: the infamous bell ringer of Notre Dame de Paris, a man of a kind and gentle repute, though known for his ugliness and status as something of a gentle giant haunted by the events of his dark past. Inspired by greed, the circus’s ringmaster, Sarousch, lures the lonesome bell ringer, Quasimodo, into his circus with the promise of a better life for himself. </p><p>He meets the ringmaster’s servant, a beautiful young blonde girl named Madellaine, and quickly forms a friendship with her as the pair work to unravel a grand conspiracy against the ‘outcasts’ of the world. </p><p>Faced with questions of love and loyalty to all that he knows, Quasi must work together with Madellaine to find a way to stop the villainous Sarousch before it’s too late.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Phoebus de Châteaupers/Esméralda | Esmeralda, Quasimodo/Madellaine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Heaven's Light Duology [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2268152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi folks! This is my 3rd(?) story for the Hunchback of Notre Dame fandom, and this is perhaps the most Disney-ish thing I will ever write lol. It's drastically different than my other fic on here, God Help the Outcasts, and is sort of a Disney attempt at how I think Disney would write the sequel, but taking away the silly, ridiculous jeweled bell plot of the movie. I've also modeled our beloved bell ringer after David Jakobs, the German actor who had the honor and privilege of playing the roll in the German stage version of the musical. </p><p>The only things that I have kept the same are Madellaine as Quasi's love interest, and Madellaine being a part of the traveling circus, with Sarousch as the main villain, though I promise the rest of the plot is drastically different, I hope, initially better than the direct-to-DVD's sequel approach at continuing the beloved tale of our favorite red-haired, lonely bell ringer with the magnificent voice!</p><p>I did my first ever fan-art of sorts, of what I think Madellaine would look like in live-action form to go along with my vision of Jakobs as Quasi. I hope it doesn't suck lol. If you're interested, you can check it out here: https://www.deviantart.com/marrowinthebarrow/art/Disney-s-Madellaine-869823923</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><span class="u">Ordinary Miracles Summary</span>: Set a year after the events of the first movie, Paris is thrown into a world of chaos, magic, and wonder when a traveling circus comes to town, with its ringmaster seeking the city's true prize: the infamous bell ringer of Notre Dame de Paris, a man of a kind and gentle repute, though known for his ugliness. Inspired by greed, the circus's ringmaster, Sarousch, lures the lonesome bell ringer, Quasimodo, into his circus with the promise of a better life for himself. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>He meets the ringmaster's servant, a beautiful young blonde girl named Madellaine, and quickly forms a friendship with her as the pair work to unravel a grand conspiracy against the 'outcasts' of the world. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Faced with questions of love and loyalty to all that he knows, Quasi must work together with Madellaine to find a way to stop the villainous Sarousch before it's too late.</strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Ordinary Miracles<br/></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>By HeadintheCloudsForever</strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>1</strong>
</p><p><strong>THE </strong>brisk cold air of the city of Paris in the year 1484 was chilled as leaves softly rode the bitter Parisian breeze while figures nestled comfortably in the throes of their sleep.</p><p>The City of Lovers on this fine spring evening was practically glowing, bathed in the silver hue of the moon, which hung overhead and offered light to an encroaching caravan line of what looked to be weary travelers, from Clopin Trouillefou's vantage point.</p><p>The night air was shimmering with a calming sense of tranquility and peace, the breeze offering a light reprieve from a blistering heatwave that had been plaguing the city of Paris, France, now, for quite the last several weeks.</p><p>Nestled comfortably in the shadows as Clopin crept forward for a closer look at the traveling caravan that stopped at the edge of Paris's city gates, not a single voice or sound was heard, aside from the swaying creaks and boughs of the tall dark oak trees that lined the village.</p><p>The air around the city carried the faint but heady scent of rainfall that made Clopin's hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.</p><p>A storm was coming in the very near future, and he would need to seek shelter from it, but first, he wanted to bear witness to the new arrivals that were about to enter into the gates of <em>his</em> precious city.</p><p>Nothing happened within the city of Paris without the King knowing about it. Much had happened to the city of Lovers within the last year alone. Clopin felt the edges of his lips curl upward into a faint smile that tugged the corners of his lips upward as he heard one of the guards under the newly reinstated Captain Phoebus's command give the order to open up the gates.</p><p>He turned his head back towards the gate upon hearing the guard at his post give the order in rapid-fire French, barking at his comrade to hurry up.</p><p>The other guard shot his companion a rueful, admonishing look but obliged. Clopin watched with an interesting look, cocking his head to the side as the line of colorful caravans came into his line of sight as they entered.</p><p>The king of the Romani people and his Court of Miracles couldn't be entirely sure, though he could tell by a few of the men who were leading along chained animals bound and held captive by lengths of iron-wrought chains, a few exotic animals he recognized, one like an elephant, another a giraffe, that a circus had come to town. For a moment, Clopin blinked, startled by the sight as all the dark-skinned man could do was gape owlishly at the strange scene unfolding before him as a circus was led into the gates.</p><p>Biting the wall of his cheek, he decided the only way he was going to seek answers as if he were to ask one of the people walking in a slow, almost methodical manner outside of the caravans. The men handling the animals seemed too preoccupied in making sure the beasts didn't escape their restraints, but he spotted the unmistakable darkened silhouette of a feminine figure walking alongside what appeared to be the lead caravan, a rather rueful and mournful expression on her face.</p><p>"He's nothing but a <em>devil</em>. Making the rest of us walk in the freezing cold when he sits pretty inside his wagon—I need to—oh, <em>excuse</em> me, monsieur!" the young girl squeaked in a breathless, angry-sounding voice laced to the brim with a horrible bitterness and teeming with envy, as she craned her neck upright, not having watched where she was going, instead, choosing to keep her wistful gaze fixated on the muddy, cold ground in front of her, and as a consequence, the girl had utterly failed to notice Clopin had taken a cautious half-step in front of the young woman, though he did not wish to startle her.</p><p>A terrified, flustered squeak of surprise and shock escaped the young woman's pink lips as she staggered backward in both fear and surprise, not having anticipated the King's sudden presence. The figure would have fallen flat on her backside had it not been for Clopin's quick reflexes as he felt his arms move of their own accord, both of his hands latching onto one of the young woman's slender shoulders and hauling her upright, grunting a little as he did so to help right her posture.</p><p>"Th—thank you, monsieur, that would have surely been a nasty fall, a—and my master wouldn't be very <em>happy</em> with me if I got my clothes dirty," she murmured, a light pink blush speckling its way along her cheekbones. Clopin was thoughtful for a moment before he spoke, taking a moment to study the young woman's features.</p><p>She couldn't have been older than twenty-one, was the first thing he noticed as to the young woman's age. The lass had graceful features. A good jawline and prominent high cheekbones.</p><p>A feminine, slender figure that was eye-catching even underneath her simple floor-length ivory chemise and dark forest green overdress, and as the girl lifted the skirts of her dress to avoid her hem getting muddy, he chuckled a bit at her brown leather boots.</p><p>His sharp, inquisitive dark eyes wandered up and down the length of the young woman's body, before coming to rest on the details of this she-stranger's face, his dark brown irises raking over her delicate features, his eyes widening slightly at how short the young woman's golden blonde hair was.</p><p>Cut shorter than that of a young boy's, it fell about her face in stray wisps and strands, and a light smattering of freckles dusted the bridge of her nose.</p><p>Though even Clopin had to admit, it suited the young woman's features. It brought attention to the young blonde girl's bright pale sky-blue irises that made him think of a robin's egg or the bright blue sky after a fresh rainfall.</p><p>The blonde hesitantly lifted her gaze to meet Clopin's, and the King flushed as her sharp, rather curious blue eyes met his darkened ones, and the look she was currently giving him made Clopin feel somewhat uneasy, as though her piercing gaze was enough to see through his eyes, those windows to his soul, and see straight through to his heart.</p><p>It unnerved him if he was being honest with himself. Embarrassed at having allowed himself to get caught staring, Clopin coughed once to clear his throat while he wracked his brain for something to say to the young girl and turned his head to the side.</p><p>Judging by the look on the blonde's face, the lass was at a loss as to what it was that Clopin could want or need with someone the likes of her this late at night. She nervously fidgeted with her fingers, wringing her hands together in almost a skittish way, shifting her weight from her left foot, to her right.</p><p>"E—excuse me, m—monsieur, I—I did not mean to—to bump into you, my master says I'm much too clumsy," she stammered in a light, breathless sounding voice, as though she was unsure whether or not to continue. "B—but is there…is there something I can do for you?" she asked, biting her lip.</p><p>The young blonde smiled at him, a bit embarrassed as she fell silent and waited for Clopin to search his mind for the right words to say to the girl.</p><p>"What are you doing here? You are part of a traveling circus, young mademoiselle?" Clopin asked, gesturing with a flourishing sweep of his arm to the colored caravans in front of him snaking their way to the outskirts of the city's inner rim in order to set up their camp. "Why have you come, milady?" he questioned, hoping his voice sounded kind and non-accusatory.</p><p>Clopin watched as the young blonde woman gave a start at the query he had just posed to her, as though his question had caught her off-guard. He furrowed his dark brows into a frown. For all Clopin knew, perhaps he had.</p><p>"W—we <em>are</em>, monsieur," she squeaked, dropping the linen bag she was carrying at her feet in front of her, gathering the skirts of her simple dress and sinking into a brief but low curtsy. "The—your king of France wished for a celebration this summer, now that…that…the fire…the <em>burning</em> is over, a—and my master was only too happy to answer the call for entertainers," she whispered in a meek, faint voice, her tone so hushed and quiet that Clopin almost had to lean forward on his heels in order to hear the young girl better.</p><p>Though the king of the Court of Miracles did not know the woman's name, he couldn't be sure, however, he was certain that a flicker of fear darted across the young woman's bright sky blue eyes as she grew even more timid and afraid, as though uncertain she could broach such a topic of conversation in front of whom she presumed to be a native Parisian man.</p><p>Clopin gritted his teeth and shuddered at the mention of the fire, and he gave his head a curt shake to clear his mind, wanting to get the ghastly images of the city of Paris burning out from behind his closed eyelids, though the darkness would not let him see the pitch-blackness, but rather, her face.</p><p>La Esmeralda's face. His distant cousin and his friend and were it not for Notre Dame's bell ringer saving her life and the lives of his people besides, the insane, tyrannical Judge Claude Frollo would have surely ruled the city with an iron fist, expelling his people from the city of Paris one-by-one, or he would have most assuredly killed them all in a mad rage, were it not for him.</p><p><em>Quasimodo</em>. Upon mention of the young man's name in his mind, Clopin instinctively found his gaze drifting to the towering parapets of the illustrious Gothic cathedral, Notre Dame de Paris, the city's Lady of Grace.</p><p>The red-haired young bell ringer had lived alone in the north and south bell towers of the church for as long as Clopin could remember, for he was seen as a man of darkness, all because of his unusual, monstrous appearance.</p><p>Quasimodo's late master, the feared and reviled Judge Claude Frollo himself, never allowed the young bell ringer to leave the confines of his tower, but…Frollo was <em>gone</em> now, having been plunged into the fiery pits of hell itself when the man had fallen from the rooftops of the great cathedral.</p><p>His mind was suddenly rushed by the memory of the buildings being engulfed in flames and black smoke as the fires raged through the dark sky.</p><p>Clopin grimaced, forcing his eyes away from the alarming and terrifying image in his mind. His shaking hands found their way to the top of his hair and his slender fingers entangled themselves in his long, thick, dark locks.</p><p>The poor alarmed King blinked rapidly, feeling like he was failing to clear his mind of that horrible, tormented day. He slid his hands down the length of his face, clutching at his yellow linen shirt and tugging on it slightly.</p><p>He breathed in and out slow, deep breaths, as Esmeralda and Old Gwendolyn back in his Court had taught him whenever a surge of one of his panic attacks would threaten to consume him, but it simply was not enough.</p><p>His exasperated lungs simply could not get enough air, and the flashing images had only gotten worse as the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and then before too long, the month had turned into a year.</p><p>Clopin furrowed his brows into a frown as he gave his head a curt shake to rid himself of the rather troubling images, though the man was finding it increasingly difficult, no matter how hard the king of the Court of Miracles tried.</p><p>He wondered why God, if the Lord even looked out for an outcast like him, had chosen to forsake him and the rest of his people, even after a year of living in the cold slums of Paris and making a livelihood for themselves.</p><p>The man forced a half-smile on his face, though Clopin could feel his cheeks' reluctance to be molded into a smile that didn't reach his dark eyes. In an effort to steer the conversation towards something more pleasant, the flamboyant king decided that a change in the conversation was needed.</p><p>"What is your name, my lovely mademoiselle belle? Pretty little delicate French rose such as yourself has a name, no?" he asked pleasantly, having taken notice of the young blonde woman's desire to catch up to her caravan, whilst wanting to remain a moment longer and answer any of his questions.</p><p>Clopin's frown deepened as he quickly realized the misery was written all over the young woman's face as his eyes raked down her tiny, petite frame. Even in the darkness, you could see her, like a shining beacon of golden sunshine, and what a beautiful sight to Clopin the young mademoiselle was. He almost snorted through his nose as the girl merely proceeded to look up at Clopin in fear with those wide, innocent, almond-shaped blue irises.</p><p>"Well, milady, since I do not know what to call you until I can put a <em>name</em> to your pretty little face, I shall simply call you belle," he murmured, sinking into a low, sweeping bow before straightening and offering his arm.</p><p>Clopin silently observed like a dark shadow in the night that he knew himself to be as her eyes widened at the simple offer of his arm out to her. She hesitated, biting down on her bottom, sticking it out in a slight pout, before she finally accepted his arm and intertwined her fingers around his forearm, though not without great difficulty and much reluctance from her.</p><p>This gave the king of the Court of Miracles pause, and he almost faltered in his footing as he escorted her towards the line of the traveling circus's path, not wanting the young blonde mademoiselle to fall too terribly behind.</p><p>She stared at his eyes and the familiar awe caused a spasm under his skin for reasons that Clopin could not even begin to explain, but it felt to the King of the Court of Miracles as though the young blonde circus performer was looking deep into him, looking for some assurance and trust—with <em>fear</em>.</p><p>It was just a name that he had asked of her, what would turn her skittish? It took the young woman a while before she answered with her lashes lowered.</p><p>"Madellaine, monsieur," she said softly. Her voice was low as she looked up at the handsome king of the Court of Miracles out of the corner of her eye, her bright shining blue eyes making a quick scan of the tanned fellow.</p><p>"Madellaine. You have got a beautiful name, milady, it suits you well, my darling," he murmured slowly, the syllables of her name rolling off his tongue. Clopin's lips curled up into a twisted little smirk.</p><p>He decided he liked the young blonde's name. Clopin thought it suited the girl quite nicely. She flinched as he stroked the back of a finger over one of her prominent cheekbones. "You are looking <em>cold</em>, mademoiselle Madellaine Belle. How would you like to warm up?" Clopin asked kindly, hoping that he was not overstepping his boundaries by offering to escort the girl back to his Court.</p><p>Madellaine's blue eyes widened almost as round and wide as a dinner plate as she let out a squeak and immediately pulled her hand back and retreated further into herself, her eyes casting a nervous glance towards what looked to Clopin to be the circus troupe leader's caravan, for it was easily the largest as well as the cleanest of the entire line of traveling performers' carts.</p><p>She swallowed down past a lump in her throat and shook her head no, refusing his offer, before Clopin quickly realized he'd not elaborated that he meant escort her back to camp. He cursed himself inwardly for allowing the girl to think that his intentions towards her were ill meant, but the girl spoke up in a frantic voice before Clopin could even attempt to correct his mistake.</p><p>"O—oh, th—that is very <em>kind</em> of you, monsieur, b—but I <em>can't</em>!" she stammered, her breathy voice escaping her lips as a series of little squeaks.</p><p>He almost smiled, thinking her nervous, somewhat shy, and timid behavior reminded him of Notre Dame's bell ringer. For a highly inappropriate moment, Clopin wondered what the boy would think of her.</p><p>Clopin felt a twinge of compassion prick at his heartstrings. Which he thought rather <em>odd</em>, he mulled over this as his dark eyebrows knitted together in worry, thinking it was most unusual for him to form a connection so fast.</p><p>"Why ever <em>not</em>, Madellaine Belle?" Clopin inquired kindly, confused by her sudden skittish behavior as the expression on her pretty little face shifted.</p><p>Where the young woman had previously been calm, her face a perfect mask of calm serenity, now in its place was a look of abject horror and fear.</p><p>"M—my…m—master, he—he will not <em>like</em> it if I were to leave his side, monsieur. I—I am forbidden to go outside of our circus troupe's parameters sir, I cannot leave, Master Sarousch wouldn't like it if I left without telling him," Madellaine mumbled as she ducked her head in shame and fear, a lock of her golden blonde bangs falling in front of her eyes, effectively shielding whatever expression the girl wore from Clopin's sharp line of sight.</p><p>He let out a tired sigh and pinched at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Though there was an unmistakable amount of fear laced throughout the young blonde lass's voice that was otherwise soft as silk, there was something else about the girl's voice that made the king listen.</p><p>There was something…strong, determined, and unfazed about her voice. He closed his eyes, turning his head to face Madellaine before looking up at the spirited young blonde. "Your master, he is the ringmaster of the troupe?"</p><p>A mute nod as the girl pursed her thin, pink lips into an unmovable line. Even in her fear and sudden onset of an anxiety attack, the girl was quite pretty. Clopin had to work hard to repress the chuckle that threatened to escape from deep within the confines of his chest, thinking the little lass would have been <em>very</em> popular with the young men her age in his Court.</p><p>She really was quite a pretty little thing. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, but…Clopin paused as he ran his hand along his jawline, wincing at the stubble that had grown over his chin the last few days as he'd neglected to shave. No, there was more to this young blonde circus performer than just her physical beauty. Yes, the girl was beautiful, but in a subtle sort of way.</p><p>In the sort of way where if one were observant, as Clopin liked to think that, as the chosen king of the Court of Miracles, he had to be, as he had no other choice considering he had an entire people to look for and provide for, one would look twice at the young woman before him and see a strong spirit.</p><p>This was a good thing. It meant the lass would survive here in Paris. But it also meant that wandering the streets of Paris alone if she were of a mind to explore the sights that the City of Lovers had to offer her would make it much more dangerous for her, but it also made it a possibility for him, too.</p><p>"Your master shan't be angry with you, Madellaine Belle, if you are to tell him that you are with <em>me</em>, milady," Clopin said in a somber, solemn tone, no trace of joking or amusement in his eyes where previously there had been, as the man reached out his arm and latched his fingers onto her wrist and gave her hand what he hoped was a friendly, light, and reassuring little squeeze.</p><p>Madellaine narrowed her eyes as she noticed Clopin staring at her in a somewhat thoughtful and pensive manner, almost…almost…melancholic.</p><p>"A—and who…who <em>are</em> you?" she breathed in a soft, breathless little gasp.</p><p>Clopin blinked owlishly at the girl's ignorance as to who he was before he cursed himself yet again for a second time as he remembered the girl was like him. A wanderer, a traveler, going wherever her circus troupe led her, and there was no possible way on God's green earth she'd know who Clopin was.</p><p>"You do not know who I <em>am</em>, young belle?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows at her and just to make sure he was hearing the girl correctly.</p><p>Madellaine shook her head, but Clopin could already see her faltering. She was very nearly leaning into his warmth at this point before Clopin quickly realized that he had yet to relinquish control of her wrist. He let go.</p><p>A shadow of fear crossed over the blonde's beautiful features. "Sh—<em>should</em> I, monsieur? I—I'm afraid that I—I've never seen your face before until tonight, sir," she asked, quietly and confused as the girl looked at him.</p><p>Clopin looked at the girl with a small note of compassion in his dark eyes. He had been afraid that she would misunderstand, and he could tell by the dawning look of nervousness and horror in her blue eyes, that the girl had.</p><p>"No, mademoiselle," he chuckled, shooting her what he hoped was a kind smile and waved his hand airily in a dismissive manner as if he thought it could rid the young woman of her fears in thinking she had offended him. "I would not expect you to know who I am, milady. You've not offended me."</p><p>Sensing Madellaine was not yet convinced, Clopin worked quickly to think of something else to say that would perhaps put her frazzled mind at ease, for the blonde was looking quite flustered and at a loss for things to say.</p><p>He attempted to diffuse the sense of confusion and defeat he sensed within the young mademoiselle, while at the same time wanting to ascertain just how it was that he had taken such a rapid liking to the young woman.</p><p>She seemed to radiate warmth like a ray of summer sunshine, her soft features and gentle beauty enough to capture any wandering man's eyes.</p><p>Perhaps that was why Clopin liked the young belle, this French flower, but Clopin could sense there was more to the circus performer than all that.</p><p>Though what that thing or those things within the blonde lass might be, Clopin could not quite put his finger on it, and this troubled the king badly.</p><p>"Well, then, if you are not permitted to leave your circus's campsite," he said slowly, choosing his words cautiously, as Clopin did not want to offend her nor frighten her off in any way, "would you mind then if I talked with you for a moment? Would a young lass keep an aging man some company?"</p><p>Clopin chuckled as the frown between the woman's delicately shaped thin brows only deepened as her bright blue eyes made a quick scan of his face.</p><p>She made no noise of disbelief of any kind, though Clopin could picture the young woman scoffing and rolling her eyes.</p><p>He wasn't much older than forty-three, though tonight was one such night where the chill of the frigid air made his joints and bones feel stiff, rendering him feeling older than his actual age. The girl shivered through her gritted teeth as a particularly frigid gust of wind whipped through the nighttime air, blowing her blonde bangs off of her forehead and wrapped her shawl around her for warmth.</p><p>It seemed to take her an eternity to make up her mind, though she relented, heaving a tired sigh as their caravans finally stopped on the outskirts of the city, coming to rest near the meadow of pretty wildflowers that in another week or two as spring came to bloom, would be truly magnificent.</p><p>She rested her back against the trunk of a gnarled old pinewood tree and closed her eyes tiredly, though the girl wearily opened them the moment Clopin asked a follow-up question, curious as to the nature of the circus.</p><p>"Your circus will be in town for how long, Madellaine Belle?" he asked. He watched in interest as the girl's thought, pensive expression deepened.</p><p>"A few weeks, monsieur, though exactly for how long, only M—Master Sarousch knows," she whispered, digging her nails into the skin of her palms.</p><p>It did not escape Clopin's attention how she faltered and stuttered over the name of her master, this leader, this ringleader of the entire circus troupe.</p><p>She was silent at first, but Clopin perceived the young woman was either a good listener, or perhaps his question had caught her off guard and she was still struggling to come up with an appropriate response, but neither made the young mademoiselle now seated across from him any less beautiful.</p><p>"What is it that you do for the circus, mademoiselle?" he prodded gently, wanting to learn more of her. He paused, partly glad young Madellaine had responded to his query, partly warmed with her sweet, succulent, shy, and melodious voice. It was like hot butter melting on warm baked bread.</p><p>"I…" Madellaine stammered, though her voice trailed off as a single spritz of a raindrop landed on Madellaine's shoulder, and the blonde lifted her gaze to the sky, barely repressing the tiny groan that escaped past her pink lips.</p><p>The horses nearby that had been pulling the caravans stirred, whinnying in agitation and frustration, but it was not because of the light drizzling of rain that had started, but of rather, a tall, lean figure shrouded in shadow that was swiftly approaching, moving like a silent phantom in the night forward.</p><p>Clopin stiffened, his posture straightening as he rose to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his joints as he did so, noticing the blonde Madellaine Belle scramble to her feet and let out a terrified squeak before sinking to a curtsy.</p><p>The King was greatly disturbed to have sensed the prickling on the young blonde lass's skin. It was as if she knew the shadowy figure was looking at her without even seeing him, as the person was too far away and shrouded in darkness to make out the details of his or her face clearly, though as the person closed off the gap of space between the now-three-of them, Clopin was quick to tell that the build belonged to a man, and he was not at all surprised when a raven-haired, slightly tanned man stepped forward.</p><p>Clopin inclined his head in a newfound acknowledgment, his mind working a mile a minute as he noticed the shift in the blonde's behavior.</p><p><em>This must be the ringmaster of the circus</em>, Clopin mused as he slowly lifted his gaze to meet the older, but still quite handsome man's dark eyes.</p><p>The man in charge of the circus troupe was quite tall, standing around 6'1 or 6'2, Clopin noticed. A few inches shorter than Notre Dame's bell ringer. He had a thick tuft of dark hair that looked as though he'd used some sort of oil to slick it back and give his jet black strands a healthy sheen to it. The skin that was stretched over his gaunt, if not slightly emaciated cheekbones, was tanned from exposure to the sun, though his eyes unnerved Clopin. It was like there was nothing in the man's eyes to behold.</p><p>No warmth or love or affection of any kind that the King could see. The new arrival's darkened, hollowed eyes narrowed as he slowly turned his head in a dangerous and methodical manner to meet Clopin's questioning glower.</p><p>He could not help but to bring his eyes up to meet the ringmaster. There was anger within those darkened, hollowed eyes of his, and yet something else within the man that the King could not begin to place. Something festering, something dark, and Clopin was quick to decide that he did not like it one bit, and the man could tell just by one quick glance out of the corner of his peripherals that Madellaine had sensed it too and was equally stumped and much more frightened by it than Clopin was.</p><p>"Monsieur, kindly forgive her for any wrongdoings. She has committed no crime here tonight, sir," Clopin began in a cautious tone, not wanting to make matters worse for the young blonde mademoiselle her first night in Paris. "<em>I</em> am the one who asked her to sit out here with me. It's <em>my</em> fault."</p><p>The circus's ringmaster offered a curt nod in return, though his darkened eyes did not quite meet Clopin's gaze as he focused his attention instead on that of the young blonde woman, who swallowed past a lump in her throat and pointedly ducked her head in the hopes of averting her gaze from him.</p><p>However, the moment his hollowed eyes moved to Madellaine and his thin, if not slightly wormy lips reformed to a little smile, it was obvious to all three of them that the ringmaster's smile was false. The ringmaster looked like a man who took orders from no one and conceded to no one at all.</p><p>He could see why the blonde belle in front of him was afraid of him. The poor thing was practically shivering and quaking in her brown boots, and Clopin knew it had nothing to do with the steadily dropping temperatures.</p><p>"You shouldn't be out here this <em>late</em>, Madellaine," the ringmaster called Sarousch announced in a listless baritone, condescending. "You could get <em>sick</em>, my lovely belle, and then you're of no use to me in our performance."</p><p>Clopin frowned as the handsome ringmasters' hollowed dark eyes traveled from Madellaine's eyes to her graceful cheekbones and lingered on her lips. The King of the Court of Miracles was quite sure the ringmaster of this little circus troupe that had come to the city was captivated by his own servant, and of course, who wouldn't be?</p><p>The girl's face was more than to attract an entire crowd of men at her side. He was momentarily saddened she was not a member of his own Court, the farthings, and shillings she'd bring in from the male crowd here in Paris was sure to be quite a worthy sum, yes.</p><p>"F—forgive me, M—Master Sarousch, I—I needed some…air." Madellaine's voice was small and even more timid than it had been before.</p><p>Sarousch strode his eyes back to the man who'd been with his servant and let his suspicious gaze settle on Clopin as the man's eye sockets narrowed.</p><p>"I thank you for keeping my precious little <em>trinket</em> <em>safe</em>, monsieur," Sarousch murmured in a smooth, languid baritone that was soft as silk, though Clopin was not at all fooled by the man's feigned courtesies. "My little Madellaine Belle is quite <em>lonely</em> sometimes, <em>aren't</em> you, little dove?"</p><p>She looked as though she wanted to say something, but upon Clopin shooting her a knowing little look, the girl thought better of it and fell silent.</p><p>Clopin straightened himself, finding himself unable to look at the young woman, ashamed of how careless with the way he'd dealt with the girl so far.</p><p>"I—I am terribly <em>sorry</em>, milady. H—had I <em>known</em>, it was shameless…"</p><p>"It's all right, monsieur," Madellaine quickly cut him off. "I don't mind."</p><p>Clopin still couldn't bring himself to look at her, unable to melt the shock now taking over his mind. She was flushing bright pink as well to have placed the King in an uncertain situation and looked as though she wanted to apologize, though it would have dragged the two men into a bit of a quarrel.</p><p>A thick, uncomfortable silence took over and Clopin could practically fathom the pressure on Sarousch's look the handsome stranger shot him.</p><p>Clopin stiffened as he saw how the ringmaster of the circus raised Madellaine's chin with his thumb and forefinger. "My trinket is <em>merciful</em>," he smiled. "I'll take you back to the wagons from here then. I wouldn't want my lovely assistant catching a cold a few nights before our performance."</p><p>He moved his hand from her chin to her cheek before dropping his hand by his side, though his other arm wound itself almost possessively so around her shoulder and steered her back towards what looked to be his own wagon.</p><p>She looked down, flushed and silenced, not knowing what to say, though Clopin shivered, waiting with gritted teeth as he watched as the blonde's back was turned towards him, and he froze, his face draining of colors as the circus's ringmaster turned and aimed a look at the King of the Court of Miracle's. Acrid, perilous, and angry were the man's dark, hollowed eyes.</p><p>It was a warning as clear as daylight to stay away from Madellaine or else.</p><p>Clopin snorted and shook his head in disbelief to himself as he watched the ringmaster of the traveling circus lead the kind blonde loss away from him, one hand on the small of his back, the man not bothering to look back.</p><p>"Madame's and Monsieur's, the <em>circus</em> has come to Paris," he grumbled darkly, before shrinking into his simple linen shirt as much as he could for warmth as he turned away, though as he made to head back towards the Court of Miracles and tell Esmeralda, if his cousin were still awake, that was, that a circus had come to town, Clopin could not quite shake the feeling that soon enough, there would be new stories to tell the children in his old Court.</p><p>And at that moment, the King had no idea just how right he was…</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>2</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>THE </strong>dawn was breaking as the city of Paris woke, most of the Parisians seeing the dawn and taking for granted the sun, though one lay awake before most, having to rise early enough to ring for the morning session of Lauds.</p>
<p>Brilliant shades of oranges and reds cast themselves on the crowded buildings, bathing the illustrious and somewhat intimidating Gothic structure of the massive cathedral, Paris's pride, Notre Dame de Paris, look beautiful with the sunrise's brilliant and rich hues of a wide variety of color.</p>
<p>The city woke to the sound of the cathedral's bells that sounded tenderly, their sound resonating and pouring the flood of sound into the town square.</p>
<p>A year ago, were you to ask a Parisian passerby in the street, maybe the baker or the fisherman, they would tell you the bells rang by themselves, though such stories were for the weak-minded and the whimsical, whereas a more pragmatic person, say, the blacksmith, or even Monsieur Clopin, if you were fortunate enough (or unfortunate enough, depending on your view of the King of the Court of Miracles), would tell you the bell ringer rang them.</p>
<p>Up until this year, the only remote trace Paris was granted of the young man was the slightly misshapen and monstrous silhouetted shadow against the swaying shapes of the proud and massive iron and brass church bells.</p>
<p>And most times, even then, the man was gone before ever being fully spotted.</p>
<p>Most believed the illusive man to be a ghost or phantasm of sorts, though the smarter folks who were more inclined to be rational about such believes merely stated he was a lonesome figure who preferred the solitude of his own north and south bell tower lofts, and the gruesome stone gargoyles for his company.</p>
<p>Little was known about the boy back then, just that he kept to himself, rang the bells faithfully each morn and night without fail, caused no trouble, and that there was something… well, <em>wrong</em>, with the young lad.</p>
<p>Because of his monstrous appearance that could not be helped, his bedeviled old master, something of a father figure to the wretch, the feared and reviled Judge Claude Frollo, now dead, had never allowed him to leave the sanctuary of his bell towers.</p>
<p>The young man was especially strong and well-toned after over twenty years of ringing the massive iron, and brass bells of Notre Dame. The secluded young man of twenty-two years old now had been <em>born</em> wrong, horribly <em>wrong</em>, cursed with a hunched back and a deformed face, truly twisted features. His left brow bone sat crooked and slightly swollen over his left eye, which gave his otherwise what would have been quite handsome features something of a lopsided look.</p>
<p>Although quite tall, standing at around 6'2 or so if he forced himself to stand upright, his gait was lame, the stooped over form of his slightly lackluster posture caused by a small rise in his rather twisted vertebrae, though the small hump near the man's right shoulder did not impede the sole bell ringer of Notre Dame standing upright, though whenever he did, his back ached and cracked from the strain and fatigue, so to ease his comfort, his form was often stooped over and bent.</p>
<p>The moment the rays from the sun as the dawn crept over the horizon hit his face, it could easily be explained away why the man preferred his solitude, even after a year of much change now that his old master, Frollo, was dead.</p>
<p>However, despite the fact that that the boy, who had been given the abominable name of Quasimodo upon his birth, a cruel name which meant half-formed, named of course, for Quasimodo Sunday, was now free to move about the tower, and even leave the confines of his precious sanctuary and venture freely into the town.</p>
<p>Though the man was now accepted by most of the Parisians throughout the massive city, there were still a few choice people scattered throughout the city who would never accept him for what he was, men, women, even children who still labeled him as some form of beast or monster rather than an ordinary man.</p>
<p>And well, if you were to look directly at the man's face, it would, upon first glance, be <em>easy</em> to see just why they would hold such an opinion of him.</p>
<p>To say the boy was <em>hideous</em> would be well, a rather gross understatement.</p>
<p>Perhaps the boy's only redeeming features were his wild shock of fiery auburn red hair that looked as though it had been kissed by fire at birth, and a brilliant pair of pale blue, crystalline irises that twinkled with a playfulness and a gentleness despite the truly monstrous appearance of the wretch's face.</p>
<p>His cheekbones were strong and chiseled like that of the finest marble, his features angular, almost Roman, and were it not for the contusion over his brow and the slight but noticeable hump near the man's right shoulder, the young lad would have been quite handsome as it so happened, but alas, there was nothing quite like him that could be compared to him.</p>
<p>Even the gargoyle statues that guarded the uppermost level of Notre Dame tended to sneer at the boy in horror and ire. His favorite spot was to sit on the edge of the balcony's balustrade, his legs dangling precariously over the ledge as he would sit in silence and watch the sunrise creep over the horizon and signal yet again the start of a new day.</p>
<p>This morning was no different, though something for Quasimodo felt, well, <em>off</em>.</p>
<p>And the fact that he could not explain away <em>why</em> was disconcerting. He glanced back over his shoulder as an audible scraping sound of stone against stone reached his eardrums.</p>
<p>Furrowing his thin ginger brows into a slight frown, he looked over his shoulder and seeing nothing, his frown deepened. His three stone companions, his few friends alongside Esmeralda and Phoebus, who visited him frequently, had not yet woken and come to life, so what then, was that strange noise? He heard it again, though didn't see it.</p>
<p>Quasimodo remained silent a few seconds longer, straining his ears for more sounds, any signs of where the noise had come from, but when he didn't see anything, he heaved a tired sigh and turned his attention back to the sunrise, resting his elbows on the balustrade and his face in his gloved hands.</p>
<p>The large loft nestled within the towers in which he lived was decorated with all sorts of nick nacks and trinkets that littered the abode in its entirety. The young twenty-one-year-old had awakened from yet another nightmare, and how his mind could twist and warp the truth of the fire.</p>
<p>Of his dear friend Esmeralda's face, how in his nightmares, which were worsening in intensity as the days passed, how she would burn to her death.</p>
<p>He'd woken bathed in sweat, and not willing to go back to sleep, not when the man who Quasi had once called 'Father', that silver-haired demon, lay in wait for him the moment his lids closed again, he'd dressed and in a groggy stupor, half-lidded, had lumbered his way out onto the balcony.</p>
<p>He would find no further reprieve in his sleep, not this early in the morn. His misshapen face was illuminated by the truly gorgeous sunrise, though it was not enough to brighten the desolate bell ringer's shattered spirits. The worn man held a forlorn expression, and the thick, suffocating silence was more than deafening, and it felt as though he couldn't breathe.</p>
<p>His throat hollowed and constricted as his thrashing, burning lungs beseeched him for air, as he thought there was nothing more that he would not give to stir awake in horror, slick salty tears pouring down his pale, ashen face, night after night, alone in his rather desolate, but still quite comfortable home, his large loft.</p>
<p>Quasi's eyes dilated as the ominous sound of something scraping across the stone balcony platform behind him raised the hairs on the back of his neck.</p>
<p>His fingernails curled into his palms, his nails digging through the thick leather hide of the gloves he wore on his hands to protect his hands from the bells' harsh ropes and the bitter cold temperatures of the nights here in Paris.</p>
<p>His heart raced in the confines of his broad, muscular chest, though he felt the tension immediately dissipate from his tensed shoulders as he heaved a tired sigh.</p>
<p>It was only his stone companions, his gargoyles, Victor, Hugo, and Laverne, hobbling and scraping their way across the platform to see him.</p>
<p>Laverne furrowed her stone brows into a frown as she pursed her lips into a thin line and wriggled her brows at the boy, no doubt studying the dark purple bags clinging to the skin underneath both of his eyes from lack of sleep. She was, as usual, the first to speak.</p>
<p>"Quasi?" she asked in a shaking and slightly warbling voice as she hobbled over to where the man sat perched. She reached up with one of her bony arms and patted at his arm. "What's the matter? You look…" She paused, tapping her chin as she gave the man's pale face a quick once-over, while she searched for the right words.</p>
<p>"<em>Awful</em>!" piped up the shortest of the three, a fat, horned swine called Hugo, whose mouth knew no filter and his flamboyant nature often annoyed Laverne, and the tallest and most refined of the three statues, Victor, of which the gargoyle shot his companion a glower for his quip. Hugo hobbled his way over towards Quasi's position as the young man reluctantly slid off the balustrade's ledge.</p>
<p>Quasi took it upon himself to use the railings of the ledge, rested his back against the railing as he slumped to the cold stone floor of the balcony, the wind ruffling his wavy ginger hair gently, blowing his bangs off his forehead while the bell ringer shot him a confused yet annoyed lock as Hugo took a lock of his red hair in between his claws and lifted it, seemingly trying to see if their charge had a fever or was sick with an ailment of sorts that neither of them could identify.</p>
<p>Victor, as always, was the last to speak, never one to speak out of turn and always over-thinking his words, whatever it was that he wanted to say to him.</p>
<p>"You had a nightmare again, didn't you. You <em>dreamed</em> again," Victor stated in a calm, stoic voice that when he put it that way, wasn't a question.</p>
<p>Quasi inwardly groaned, running a gloved hand down alongside his face, the pads of his fingertips ghosting over the worst of his contusion over his brow, before turning his head sharply away from the gargoyles' piercing stares. This was perhaps the one time in his life that he didn't want their counsel or advice on what to do about the nightmares plaguing his mind.</p>
<p>In fact, he had a feeling the three stone figures were apt of a mind to scold him for not divulging the nature of his dreams to them or for letting them know that it was getting worse. Not that they could do anything to help him.</p>
<p>"Could Esmeralda give you something to help you sleep? Some wine spiked with some milk of the poppy or the essence of nightshade, perhaps? Surely one of those is bound to do the trick?" Victor questioned softly as he flexed his wings.</p>
<p>Quasi flinched at the mention of the spiced wine and waved the suggestion away with a motion of his gloved hand, shaking his head no.</p>
<p>"I—It's fine. I'm <em>fine</em>, I—I don't think I need any of that, a—and I don't want to burden her," he emphasized through gritted teeth, hoping his tone was pleasant enough, though it conveyed none of the emotions he felt.</p>
<p>Laverne made a quiet, disparaging noise that suggested the elderly female gargoyle did not believe him and continued to pat at the top of his gloved hand.</p>
<p>"But Esmeralda is your <em>friend</em>, isn't she? She wants to help you, as we do! And just take a look at you, Quasi," Laverne sighed, sounding tired, tugging on a fistful of his worn and tattered thick green woolen tunic and pulling at a loose thread of his long-sleeved linen shirt he wore underneath it. "You are a <em>mess</em>. You aren't sleeping, we can hear you talk in your sleep. We <em>hear</em> you. Please don't lie to us, Quasi. Don't shut us out. We're your <em>friends</em>."</p>
<p>She shot him a rueful and slightly admonishing look that would have had the power to wilt a fully-bloomed flower had the old stone gargoyle the capability, causing Quasi to flinch and yet, the lonely red-haired bell ringer could not manage to tear his gaze away from Laverne's questioning gaze. He parted his lips open slightly to speak, though nothing was coming out.</p>
<p>Laverne sensed that he had more to say, for she cocked her horned head to the side and waited patiently for the twenty-one-year-old to gather his thoughts, though it didn't escape her attention Hugo was getting impatient.</p>
<p>Hugo hopped to the front to stand in the middle of Victor and Laverne, opening his fat mouth to speak, though Victor did not give the fat swine a chance to interrupt their ward right in the middle of formulating a thought, for he curled his stone fist and brought it down hard on top of Hugo's head.</p>
<p>"Sh—she dies in my dreams. I—I'm n—not fast enough to save her, a-and neither is Phoebus. A—always the <em>same</em> dream, every night," Quasi stammered out after a few failed attempts at trying to collect himself as he crossed his legs and buried his face in his hands, carding his fingers through his thick, coarse ginger locks and tugging on them slightly hard enough that he swore he felt the roots scream in protest.</p>
<p>Yes, it hurt, but it also helped to alleviate some of the pain.</p>
<p>"A—and Captain Phoebus, he doesn't save her," Quasi admitted, somewhat begrudgingly.</p>
<p><em>Phoebus</em>. Even just the mention of his friend's name caused an abrupt bitterness to settle in the pit of his churning, swooping stomach, and Quasi's already pallid features paled a shade whiter before turning an interesting shade of green.</p>
<p>The gargoyles exchanged an alarmed look with one another, hoping the boy wasn't about to be horribly, violently sick, because he certainly looked it, though they fell silent and waited for him to continue.</p>
<p>Even a year after the events of the attempted siege on the cathedral, and Frollo's demise, Quasimodo liked to think he'd worked out his differences with the gilded, golden-haired Sun God, the newly reinstated Captain of the King's Archers.</p>
<p>But despite his best efforts to shove aside his personal feelings, his heart still painfully wrenched when he thought of the man touching his dear friend, Esmeralda, hugging her, kissing her, the way that <em>he</em> had hoped to, and even to this day, Quasimodo felt immense guilt and hot shame when the familiar feeling of resentment welled within him.</p>
<p>As hard as he tried to suppress these ugly, dark feelings within himself, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to do, considering his dreams.</p>
<p>Captain Phoebus was the reason Esmeralda did not return his affections. "If only…I—if she had <em>stayed</em> with <em>me</em>, th—then maybe she...she would..." he whispered hoarsely, lifting his head from his hands, and letting his hands fall ungainly into his lap, blearily focusing his tear-filled vision at his stone companions, who were exchanging dark but sympathetic glances with one another, that Quasi was sure he was about to be on the receiving end of another lecture.</p>
<p>"But she <em>didn't</em>, Quasi," Hugo pointed out blatantly, ever the blunt one. He was oblivious to the pointed glower Laverne and Hugo were giving him.</p>
<p>"We <em>know</em> that you <em>care</em> for her, Quasimodo," Victor chimed in, blowing out a breath as he spoke his charge's name. "We know that Esmeralda cares for you deeply, but it's been a year, son. They've married. Esmeralda <em>made</em> her choice, and she chose the Captain, son. Don't you think it's time to maybe…move on? See what else life has to offer you?" Victor asked, after a long pause as he scratched his chin.</p>
<p>Quasi grimaced, feeling ashamed that he'd even brought it up in the first place, and not knowing how to deal with his feelings of jealousy whenever Esmeralda and Phoebus would visit him in his tower, and they were due, as it so happened, to spend the morning with him, as they'd promised to break their fast with him and bring a loaf of bread and some cheese for breakfast.</p>
<p>"Would you <em>really</em> put Esmeralda through the trials of a feuding friend and husband, Quasi?" Victor pressed, wanting to make his point known.</p>
<p>This statement shocked the young, red-haired bell ringer, whose head whiplashed sharply upright to regard his three stone companions with a look of dawning horror, shock, and disbelief etched onto his misshapen face.</p>
<p>"No," he admitted truthfully, rather begrudgingly, though a million and one answers flitted through the forefront of his tormented mind. He could have given his friends several answers, he thought.</p>
<p>The man had married the only woman who'd ever dared to look upon his twisted visage with no traces of fear, and for a moment, the day of the attempted siege when it was all over, Quasi had not thought that he could live with that fact; that Esmeralda loved Phoebus.</p>
<p>When Phoebus had come to Quasimodo's tower one day about a fortnight after the Judge's death and had announced his intentions to marry Esmeralda, the bell ringer had been more than a little stunned and betrayed.</p>
<p>Quasi had wanted nothing more than to deny the captain a life of happiness and love, for the captain in his mind, did not deserve simplicity. The gilded, golden-haired was handsome, charismatic, charming, everything that Quasimodo was not, and his jealousy had almost won out.</p>
<p>But in the end, he'd relented, and let the notion of a foolish hope that Esmeralda would ever dare to return his affections go, because he loved her.</p>
<p>He would not hate the captain for marrying his only friend, thinking that he could not allow himself to be so selfish and cold and heartless to Phoebus.</p>
<p>He could not—<em>would</em> not—put the woman he loved through this mess. Quasi let out a haggard sigh and raked his fingers through his hair, avoiding looking at his gargoyles as he spoke.</p>
<p>"I—I <em>should</em>," Quasi admitted to Victor, albeit begrudgingly, who silently nodded his agreement. "I—I want Esmeralda to be happy, even if it's not…<em>me</em> that makes her happy, Victor."</p>
<p>The scent of must and bell polish greeted the bell ringer as he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, feeling a twinge of self-pity prick at his wretched heart, that stubborn muscle that was little more than a throbbing corded mass of muscle within his chest that beat relentlessly still, every single time without fail every time Esmeralda's name was mentioned.</p>
<p>For a moment, however inappropriate it may be, he briefly wondered if there was another woman who could invoke this feeling. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the balcony's railing. He was exhausted, working himself near to death, confused, and utterly lost, and sad.</p>
<p>"What could possibly ever change?" Quasi murmured, mumbling a quick prayer under his breath as he blearily opened his eyes, looking to his friends.</p>
<p>"Lots, kid!" Hugo interjected jovially, flashing him a toothy grin that made him flinch to see the gargoyle's sharpened canines bared at him. "You can wander the city now of your own free will. Folks aren't afraid a' that mug of yours now," he grinned, to which Laverne shot him a reproachful glower.</p>
<p>"<em>Hugo</em>!" she snapped, giving the fat swine a sightly perturbed look. Hearing Quasi's deafening silence as the young man ducked his head in shame, that one stubborn fiery lock of ginger hair falling into his one good eye, effectively shielding whatever expression her charge wore from her was enough to cause her to act.</p>
<p>Laverne hobbled in between his lap and curled her bony and thin stone claw into a fist and cupped his chin in her hand, an unusually strong grip for a stone figure, and tilted the bell ringer's chin upright, forcing Quasi to meet Laverne's saddened and sympathetic gaze.</p>
<p>Laverene smiled at him sadly, hoping to ease the burden he carried on himself.</p>
<p>"It takes more than looking to really see, Quasi. There's someone out there for ya, Quasi. You'll find her. Someday, when you're ready. You just have to be patient on this one, kid."</p>
<p>Quasi swallowed down thickly past a lump in his throat.</p>
<p>He knew there was wisdom in the stone gargoyle's words, but in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to figure out what it was that his little stone friend meant by it. He parted his lips to speak, to ask Laverne what it was that the elderly female gargoyle meant by her words but was promptly cut off just then.</p>
<p>A loud squawking noise reached his fatigued eardrums, which were still ringing from his latest ringing of the Lauds earlier this morning. Startled, he whiplashed his head to the immediate left in search of the new disturbance.</p>
<p>The waves of sharp alarm as a large black bird, perhaps the biggest Quasi had ever seen in his twenty-one-years, a huge raven or perhaps a crow, he couldn't quite tell which it was as the bird was too far away to make out, took flight, having previously been nestled in a nearby wooden beam of his loft inside his tower. The abrupt but small sound caused his hands to clench into fists as the soft woolen fabric of his thick green tunic curled in his grasp.</p>
<p>Quasimodo was always someone who had easily startled throughout his life, but over the last few weeks, thanks to his nightmares, his jumpiness seemed worst. The slightest sound out of place set his entire body on edge.</p>
<p>His hammering heart had just begun to slow down when the young man was able to take in a full breath again as he and the gargoyles watched the bird spread its black wings and take flight, soaring over the man's head.</p>
<p>"<em>Goodness</em>!" exclaimed Laverne, a bony hand on her heart. It seemed he wasn't the only one who'd been startled by this unexpected disturbance, the only thing he could manage to assuage himself of. "What on <em>earth</em>….?!"</p>
<p>"I—it's gone now," Quasi mumbled, letting his heavy hand rest on his heaving chest, still feeling quite flustered. He drew in a long, shaking breath.</p>
<p>One. Two. Three. And then back out. Like Esmeralda had taught him.</p>
<p>His face twisted and contorted into a pained grimace as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, not sure why a bird, a raven from the looks of it, had managed to startle him so badly. He was used to the pigeons and crows nesting within the wooden beams of his tower's lofts, this wasn't an uncommon occurrence.</p>
<p>Laverne, Victor, and Hugo, all swiveled their stone heads and watched the large raven swoop and skirts its way through the skies of the city of Paris, before finally fading from view, looking as though it was heading to the outskirts of Paris. Laverne exhaled a perturbed breath, turning back to Quasi, clearly eager to continue their point of conversation from a moment ago before they were so rudely interrupted by that large bird taking flight.</p>
<p>"I think that you need to pick yourself back up and get yourself out there, Quasi. Esmeralda is <em>not</em> the only young woman in the world, Quasi, though you're acting as though she is. She—she's <em>killing</em> you because you're <em>letting</em> her, and it breaks my heart to see you this way. It truly does. There's someone out there for you, kid. You'll find her when you're ready for her. Someday," Laverne continued, with a slight warble to her voice as it cracked slightly.</p>
<p>She hoped she wasn't overstepping her boundaries by speaking of this, but to see the boy pine and mourn over a woman he would never have, it was killing her inside, and she knew it was affecting Victor and Hugo, too, though not in so many words and those two would never dare to admit that.</p>
<p>"B—but what girl could ever want <em>this</em>? To want what Phoebus and Esmeralda have is hopeless..." Quasi moaned with a groan of despair escaping his lips as he gestured to the contusion over his brow and tugging on a lock of his fiery red hair. "I—I am a <em>monster</em>, you know. I <em>know</em> what I am, and there is no changing that about me, as much as I <em>wish</em> for it."</p>
<p>The note of shame and bitterness that had seeped its way unbidden to the surface of the man's soft, musical, tenor-like voice that was smooth and melodious, the kind of voice a man should have, the gargoyles thought, was unmistakable, and neither one of them knew what to say to help their friend.</p>
<p>Suddenly overwhelmed by a pang of remorse and an onset of fear that threatened to tighten his chest and squeeze the very air from his lungs, Quasi wanted nothing more than to flee from the company of his stone friends.</p>
<p>He wanted nothing more than to be alone until Phoebus and Esmeralda arrived, though but then again, his loneliness was turning into a silent killer. And yet, Quasi could not bear to bring himself to look into his friends' beady, stony eyes and see the disappointment and worry within their eyes.</p>
<p>He knew Victor, Hugo, and Laverne worried for him, fearing that he was working himself to death to avoid his mind drifting to dark places and dwelling on thoughts that he would rather not think about, though there were little his stone friends could do for him at this stage in his adult life. With a heavy, tired sigh, and a run of his ginger hair with his gloved hand, he slowly lifted his chin and turned his gaze and locked eyes with Laverne.</p>
<p>"Someday?" he murmured, bolting to his feet, swallowing down hard past a lump in his throat. "Nah, Laverne, I—I don't think so. I—I <em>appreciate</em> what you're trying to do to help me feel better, I...I really do, but let's not <em>fool</em> ourselves, shall we? What could <em>possibly</em> ever <em>change</em>?"</p>
<p>His voice cracked and broke as he spoke, and the gargoyles did not even have to look the boy in the eye to know the young man was quite possibly fighting back tears as he kept facing away from them, not wanting to look them in the eyes.</p>
<p>With that, the bell ringer turned on the heels of his scuffed brown leather boots and turned his back to the gargoyles. Quasimodo didn't bother to look back as he dashed from the balcony as fast as his legs could carry him, walking with a rather lumbering, uneven gait towards the tower's door that led down the stairwell to the main sanctuary.</p>
<p>He was smart enough not to allow himself to look back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>3</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>NEAR </strong>the outskirts of the city, where the traveling circus's band of caravans had set up their camp, a stooped-over, haggard-looking old crone watched tautly as the black-winged raven re-emerged behind darkening clouds that, even now that the sun was fully risen, looked to promise rain at some point in the day.</p>
<p>At the old crone's age, however old she was, she should have had one foot in the grave. Her gait should have been wonky with arthritic joints and her eyesight failing faster than Master Sarousch's pitiful attempt at being nice.</p>
<p>The old woman made an odd sniffing noise of disapproval through her long, slender nose that was covered by a bulbous looking wart at the tip.</p>
<p>Were it not for the lines in her face, you would think her sixty at most, given the old woman's sharp mind and easy, fluid motion, but they were so deep and saggy, like the skin no longer held a connection to her skull underneath.</p>
<p>The crone's name was Baba, Baba Yaga, and it was oft her litheness and articulate speech that would sometimes throw you off-guard, an echo of youth in someone so truly old. She allowed the faintest ghost of a smile to flit across her thin lips as the raven landed and preened itself atop her shoulder, looking particularly proud about something.</p>
<p>"Good boy, Bram. What did you see when you scoured the city skies? What did you find? Show Baba Yaga what you <em>saw</em>, my lovely," she crooned in a rough, grating voice.</p>
<p>She reached up a gnarled, withering hand that was curled into a claw by her arthritis to stroke the top of the black bird's head and stroke its plumage.</p>
<p>The longer she looked at her pet, an odd string of connection was beginning to brew that, were an outsider to look upon the strange scene, they would surely flee from old Baba Yaga in terror, screaming at the top of their lungs about witchcraft and sorcery, and in this regard, they'd be right.</p>
<p>Yaga could sense Bram's desire to flee, to spread its slim wings and fly, but she was able to stop it from fleeing, commanding it to stay still with her mind.</p>
<p>The bird let out a harsh, chattering squawk as Yaga closed her eyes, summoning the mystical force that linked her soul to that of this raven, to allow her access to the bird's mind, to see what it saw through its own eyes.</p>
<p>An ominous, fatigued ringing filled Baba Yaga's eardrums, and suddenly, everything around the wizened old crone felt dense as her eyes rolled back into her head and her irises lost their color until her eyes were of purest white. The witch could hear her breaths run slow and deep as she inhaled and exhaled slowly.</p>
<p>She let the sensation continue for a few moments until it settled, and when the ringing in her eardrums and pounding of the blood in her ears has passed, she began to open her eyes. But the bird perched in her hand was now gone.</p>
<p>Instead, in its place was a more petrifying sight. No longer was she standing on the outskirts of Sarousch's encampments for their troupe, no. Her beloved Bram had taken flight early this morning when the rest of Paris was still sound asleep, nestled comfortably in the confines of their own home behind their wooden walls and closed shutters of their windows.</p>
<p>And the black raven that she'd saved as a hatchling and mended a broken wing had somehow managed to find refuge in the bell tower of Notre Dame and nestle in the crevices of one of the wooden support beams.</p>
<p>Yaga felt small and light like air as she took possession of the raven's mind, seeing what her Bram had just seen for himself only fifteen minutes ago. Instead of her hands, she felt the bird's stiffened feathers as he ruffled his wings, she could feel the talons in place of where her own feet once stood. Bram let out a squawk from deep within his puffed-out chest and turned his beady, narrowed eyes towards a strange, misshapen silhouette down below.</p>
<p>Yaga stiffened as the bird craned its neck to get a closer look at the boy, the bird bound by its natural, animalistic sense of curiosity and intrigue. He wore a saddened expression, this accursed wretch, that filled a pair of pale blue eyes with such unhappiness and remorse that Baba Yaga almost, and the keyword here was really <em>almost</em>, felt sorry for the monstrous man.</p>
<p><em>Could it be the one Sarousch had told us of, that we've heard tales of in the taverns while passing through Saint Paul de Vence</em>? Baba wondered.</p>
<p>The boy lifted his head, seemingly deep in a conversation with a set of three stone, lifeless gargoyles.</p>
<p>Baba Yaga almost rolled her eyes at that, finding it difficult not to laugh. He was <em>just</em> like the girl was, talking to things, inanimate objects, and pretending that they could talk back to her.</p>
<p>The moment a beam of sunlight fell through one of the drafty rafters and hit his face, Yaga's lips curled upward into a twisted, pained sort of grimace. The man could not have been much older than Sarousch's assistant, twenty-one or two if Baba had to pinpoint a guess as to the man's age. His left eye was obstructed by an ungodly wart, clearly reducing his poor vision.</p>
<p>If Yaga squinted her eyes to see, she could just barely make out a hint of pale, crystalline blue that resided within his eye. His coarse, thick, wavy red hair had a tendency to fall to the right side of his face, covering his normal eye.</p>
<p>For a brief moment, faster than a bolt of lightning could strike, Yaga felt just a twinge of pity tug at her wretched heartstrings before just as quickly as the feeling had come, it was gone, replaced with a sickening feeling of victory.</p>
<p>She had found him. The one that Sarousch had been hunting for. Their ringmaster could talk of nothing else but the bedeviled man that was rumored to live in the bell towers of Notre Dame, an isolated man, but rumored to be quite kind and something of a gentle giant.</p>
<p>Yaga smirked as she heard the bird let out an ear-piercing squawk of displeasure as the bird ruffled its wings and took flight, causing the boy to bolt to his feet in shock.</p>
<p>The rumors of the young man being a gentle giant were true. Even with the small hump that covered the boy's right shoulder, he was quite tall, standing at around 6'2. Probably a good head or two taller than Sarousch. He turned on the heels of his boots to go, moving at an alarmingly quick speed that Yaga could see through Bram's peripherals as the bird took flight.</p>
<p>She was surprised at how nimble and agile the boy seemed to be. Yaga would have thought if nothing else, that the hump near the boy's shoulder would have impeded his ability to walk upright and move normally, but that did not seem to be the case here, Yaga noticed.</p>
<p>As the boy seemed to move swiftly through the loft and retreat down a darkened stairwell that she was confident would take him to the lower levels of the cathedral, Bram, God bless this bird, chose to take flight in the opposite direction to home. To her.</p>
<p>Satisfied with what she had seen, Yaga exhaled a shaking breath and repressed a shudder that went down her back as her eyes rolled back to the front, and the connection between bird and old hag was quickly severed.</p>
<p>Baba Yaga blinked her lids once, twice, three times, until she was quite sure the link between bird and its master had been lost, and once she was satisfied that it was, her thin, wormy lips curled upwards into a smirk as she reached out a gnarled, arthritic claw and stroked the top of Bram's head.</p>
<p>"Good boy, Bram," she murmured in a lowly voice, casting an inquisitive, slightly omniscient look towards the illustrious, towering silhouette of the massive cathedral that lurked in the distance, easily one of the tallest buildings in all of Paris, France, and certainly one of the more recognizable.</p>
<p>Baba Yaga heaved a tired groan as she gripped onto the edge of her old wooden walking stick, tottering, and shuffling her way toward Sarousch's caravan that lay nestled at the head of their encampment site for the circus.</p>
<p>The wizened old hag had to suppress snorts of disbelief as she caught the pair of conjoined twins, two heads sharing a single body, staring at the girl who, Baba Yaga would never dare to admit it to anyone else in the troupe, she had taken something of a liking to ever since Yaga found the child starving in the streets, cold, hungry, and alone, at the ripe young age of three.</p>
<p>She had taken her in with Sarousch's permission, the man thinking young Madellaine at the time would someday be of use to him in his efforts to become a wealthy man and travel the world in style and comfort, perhaps even buy an entire kingdom if he played his cards right. Baba snorted.</p>
<p>As she approached, she cautiously fell silent, her gaze flitting from the conjoined twins, Erik, and Jakob, towards the young blonde belle, who was struggling to practice walking on a tightrope less than three feet off the ground.</p>
<p>"I must say, Jakob, that girl is very, very pretty now she's of age. Easily one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in all of Paris!"</p>
<p>The first remark came from Erik, the head to the left. The second, from his brother, Jakob, who snorted and sounded like he blatantly disagreed.</p>
<p>"Really? I guess she is, brother, but I think she would look <em>prettier</em> if she were less, ah… <em>thoughtful</em>? Madellaine belle always looks like she's <em>thinking</em> about something, her head lost in the clouds, perhaps a little bit <em>too</em> hard."</p>
<p>Baba rolled her eyes and sauntered her way past the pair of conjoined twins, who quickly averted their gazes, mumbling a joint, "Hello, Baba," in unison, though Yaga didn't bother to give the twins the time of day now.</p>
<p>The twins ceased their gossiping of the lovely blonde magician's assistant, knowing full well Baba didn't tolerate ill-gossip spread about the young girl.</p>
<p>Though Yaga didn't even have to look back to imagine what they were thinking, both of those twins had ill intentions towards the girl ever since she turned of age at the age of sixteen, and now that she was twenty, she was well past the age to be married, though considering she was just like them, outcast and unwanted, no decent man would offer Sarousch a dowry for her hand.</p>
<p>The old hag shook her head in amusement as she took one last look at the girl, fumbling and faltering in her steps, but determined and resolved to make it from one end of her tightrope to the other, never one to give up.</p>
<p>She knew exactly what was happening to the poor blonde because Yaga had seen the same process again and again with each new carnie that joined their ranks throughout their various travels. By keeping busy, by remaining focused on the work, they'd have less time to feel the pain of being cast aside, unwanted, though Yaga quite liked the lovely Madellaine bell well enough.</p>
<p>Whenever the two would sit by the fireside over supper and chat over a bowl of meager stew and a hard lump of questionable, stale bread, it felt as though they were the last two people on earth, forgotten, unwanted. Madellaine was always concerned over Baba Yaga's welfare, insisting she takes more to eat, oftentimes trying to force her to take her helping of stew.</p>
<p>Baba Yaga quietly entered the tent that had been erected a while ago, not wishing to startle Madellaine, though the light little chuckle that escaped the wizened old woman's lips almost did as she cast a wary glance down at the tray of food that lay on the ground, the food, a bit of venison, a hard loaf of bread, and a slice of what looked like grain cake, lay cold and untouched.</p>
<p>"Madellaine, belle, young mademoiselle, you need to eat," Yaga admonished, leaning against one of the wooden polls that served as support for the tent, chuckling and shaking her head in disbelief as she folded her arms across her chest. "Sarousch is going to be angry if you don't eat, dear."</p>
<p>Baba Yaga bit the wall of her cheek as the young blonde slowly swiveled her head and Yaga was amused to find the young lass glaring over at the much older woman now standing in front of her discarded metal food tray.</p>
<p>With a light, sardonic snort, the hag tottered forward, grunting as she forced her body's momentum to propel her forward.</p>
<p>"Why you practice like this little dove, is beyond me. Sarousch will <em>not</em> let you do an act, little belle. If I've told you once, I've told you this a thousand times. You are wasting your time. Now, get down from there and ease an old woman's mind. Eat."</p>
<p>"I don't <em>want</em> to eat, Baba. <em>You</em> take my share. You're wasting away as it is, you're much too thin, madame," Madellaine murmured, taking a careful step forward on the rope, and it was the only thing that Baba Yaga noticed the girl had gone barefoot, and her gaze drifted towards the tent. Her shoes, a pair of simple brown leather boots, and her stockings had been kicked off.</p>
<p>The young blonde let out a startled squeak and launched herself forward on the balls of her bare heels in order to stop herself from falling off the rope as old Yaga threw back her head and let out a bone-chilling, cackling laugh.</p>
<p>"'<em>Madame</em>,' dearie, that's a good one. No '<em>madame'</em> am <em>I</em>, young Madellaine, belle, and you know this! Call old Baba Yaga by her name…We are equals within Sarousch's circus, child, you and I, so none of this…"</p>
<p>Madellaine cast a rueful, admonishing glare at Yaga's way, curling her hand into a fist and shaking it at the old crone, who merely raised her greying eyebrows at the young blonde and enjoyed watching her right herself on the rope.</p>
<p>"Are you—are you through with <em>torturing</em> me yet, Baba?" she begged. She was gasping and panting heavily, clutching at a stitch in her side with one hand, and the other arm shot out to the side in order to maintain balance.</p>
<p>Baba Yaga clucked her tongue in genuine disappointment and disapproval, giving her head a curt shake no, though the younger woman's head was already turned back towards her important task at hand: not falling off the rope, though the rope was tethered only three feet off the ground.</p>
<p>"No, not quite, dearie. I did not walk my way all across the grounds of our campsite to find you starving yourself, child. You <em>will</em> eat, or Sarousch would have <em>both</em> our heads if you faint during a performance because you did not take care to mind yourself now, girl. Do not make me say it <em>again</em>, young mademoiselle. <em>Eat</em>," she commanded in a slightly warbling voice, though there was a hint of steel laced throughout the wizened old crone's voice that told Madellaine she must listen to her.</p>
<p>She heard the girl sigh and look at Baba Yaga cautiously, the light in her sky-blue eyes dimming a little.</p>
<p>"I <em>will</em> eat, Baba, madame, I <em>promise</em>," Madellaine mumbled, a light pink blush creeping along her cheeks as she realized that Baba Yaga knew this wasn't the first tray Madellaine had wasted, preferring to practice her dream of walking across a tightrope rather than do the necessary thing and look after herself.</p>
<p>"See to it that you <em>do</em>," she grumbled. "Eat and bathe, child, and do try to take better care of yourself," Baba Yaga murmured, somewhat sadly, as she noticed just how thin the poor young woman was. "I don't want to see you get <em>hurt</em>, dear. If there is ever anything that you wish to talk about, just let me know. You know I'm here to support you, Madellaine belle, especially given your…" She hesitated, not wanting to bring up her past, "<em>circumstances</em>."</p>
<p>Baba cringed, wondering where on earth that had come from. As much as she respected young Madellaine and liked the girl well enough, she was supposed to be guilty, she knew, but no.</p>
<p>There was always a sort of pity for the young blonde who perhaps naively and pathetically held onto the hope that her master would grant her one day the act of walking across a tightrope for their circus, that she felt for Madellaine which Yaga did not know whence it came from, though she forced such thoughts aside and continued talking.</p>
<p>Yaga pressed at her temples with a gnarled thumb and forefinger, almost begrudgingly so as she leaned heavily to her right side on her walking stick for support, stifling the urge to jostle the rope and cause the blonde to fall off.</p>
<p>But if it would be the only way to get the girl to look at her, then so be it.</p>
<p>"You have got that <em>look</em> in your eyes, mademoiselle. What is it that you <em>want</em>?" Nothing. Yaga felt the familiar cinders start to ignite the fire within her chest. She did not like it whenever Madellaine ignored her questions or advice. "Different food? Some water perhaps? A new dress? Jewelry? What? You <em>know</em> it isn't befitting to dream in our line of work, pretty young belle."</p>
<p>Madellaine made an odd little strangled noise at the back of her throat. "<em>Home</em>, Baba. I…I want to go <em>home</em>. Or have a place to <em>call</em> home."</p>
<p>Baba's last word was left hanging when her shy, weak voice cut the old crone icily, and she stared, thinking she'd quite misheard the young girl.</p>
<p>"What?" she demanded, though her tone was not quite so unkind.</p>
<p>"I want to go <em>home</em>," she continued and sniffed. "I—I don't <em>want</em> to be a part of the traveling circus anymore, Baba. I want a home of my own…"</p>
<p>This time, it was Baba who ran dry off words as her mind began to race in consideration. Her mind began to race in consideration, wondering if such a dream was at all possible for the young blonde, though she highly doubted it. Sarousch wouldn't let his pretty little trinket out of his sight for too long, and Baba Yaga said as much, crushing the girl's dream right there on the spot.</p>
<p>"You cannot <em>go</em> home, my pretty belle, because this <em>is</em> your home. <em>We</em> are your <em>home</em>," Baba muttered sympathetically, hoping to set her mind at ease.</p>
<p>Though Madellaine did not turn her head to acknowledge her maternal figure, Baba Yaga swore she saw the beginnings of tears well in the blonde's eyes.</p>
<p>"Y—you're not <em>helping</em> my concentration, Baba," she murmured darkly, taking a fumbling half-step forward onto the rope, though she squeaked as she tilted and leaned a bit to her left, though surprisingly, did not fall off.</p>
<p>In truth, as she stared at old Baba Yaga, that wizened fairy crone who she was sure had…hatched from an egg, for she had been this old when Madellaine had joined Sarousch's circus at the ripe age of only three years old, was now looking across the way at her with a kind smile on her face, she was not sure what to make of the kind older woman's offer of generosity.</p>
<p>She had not expected Baba Yaga to be so kind to her this morning their first full day in Paris. Madellaine was sure the witch had come to scold her for not scouring out Sarousch's pots or helping the others prepare a spot of breakfast for the Master, but instead, she chastised her for not eating up.</p>
<p>Or as about as close to smiling as old Baba could come, which wasn't really saying much, for whenever Baba Yaga did flash that toothy grin her way, it never failed to render young Madellaine feeling slightly uneasy in her chest, her heart always pounding painfully and relentlessly against its cage of bone and cartilage, and right now as Yaga smiled at her was no exception.</p>
<p>Old Yaga was extremely maternal and generous, at least towards her, Madellaine had noticed growing up within the circus ranks, very rarely extending the same treatment towards the other members of the troupe.</p>
<p>For reasons that Madellaine could not explain, Baba Yaga, that old Russian witch, seemed to have harbored a liking for her when Yaga had found her wandering the streets alone, orphaned after her parents had died of fever. She'd attempted to steal coins from Master Sarousch's pockets, who was also meandering alongside Yaga at the time. Sarousch had been furious.</p>
<p>But instead of reporting the child to the authorities and either having her hand cut off for stealing or sentenced to the gallows, Yaga had convinced Sarousch that the child was of no threat to them and to take the girl in.</p>
<p>Sarousch had agreed, though not wanting the responsibility of caring for a brat that did not belong to him, had bestowed the burden of looking out for Madellaine to Baba, who had accepted her new role without complaint.</p>
<p>Madellaine blinked, staring owlishly across the way at the old crone, feeling a surge of affection flood her chest and spread to her bare toes as a fiery warmth that sent the blood rushing to her cheeks, not knowing what to say.</p>
<p>Rudeness, impoliteness from others within their troupe, were things the young blonde circus performer could easily deal with, and was sad to admit that she did deal with it on a semi-regular basis.</p>
<p>But in her current state of unease and vulnerability at feeling lost in yet another new city that would never truly be her home, considering their circus was only staying a few weeks, two or three, at best, according to what Sarousch said last night, Baba Yaga's kindness now felt like a stab to the heart with a rusty old dagger.</p>
<p>She could feel her eyes beginning to tear up as hot, salty tears pricked and stung at the edges of her vision, and Madellaine quickly turned her head away back towards the front of the tightrope so she wouldn't see her unease.</p>
<p>"I… w—well, th—<em>thank</em> you, for your kind words and your concern, Baba," Madellaine mumbled, biting the wall of her cheek, and squeezing her eyes shut, hating that she was babbling again like a blind, bloody fool. "I—I will take them into consideration, Yaga, b—but I'm sure I will be just fine."</p>
<p>She flinched as a single, wretched tear escaped her lid and her voice came out as a little too curtly than perhaps Madellaine would have liked, before jutting her chin out slightly defiantly and turning her back on old Baba and continued to struggle to make her way all the way across the thin tightrope.</p>
<p>Yaga sniffed, thinking their little conversation was far from resolved but decided to let the matter drop, for now, sensing the blonde needed some time alone with her thoughts.</p>
<p>"Of course, dearie," she said in a warm tone, not blaming young Madellaine in the least for knowing how to react to the harsh truth that their lives were not about to get much better for the likes of them or seeming to give a rather cold response. "I need to speak with your master about something for a moment, but when I come back, I expect <em>all</em> of that food on your tray to be <em>gone</em>, or God helps you, you're sure to get the whip."</p>
<p>Yaga turned her back on the young blonde, not bothering to look at the rapidly paling expression of fear and horror on the girl's face at the mention of one of Sarousch's favorite forms of punishment for sudden misbehavior.</p>
<p>Leaving Madellaine, Yaga turned to totter her way back the way she had come and exited the tent's flap, fully aware that the girl was probably now crying and losing her balance on the tightrope she was so dead set on walking.</p>
<p>"Better out than in, dear," whispered Yaga, somewhat sadly as she shuffled her way towards Sarousch's caravan, kicking the door open with one swift kick of her boot, not bothering to use the wagon's door's handle at all.</p>
<p>The door to Sarousch's wagon creaked open and there the ringmaster stood, as silent as the darkened shadow a witch-like Baba knew him to be.</p>
<p>She inhaled the scent of wood and spiced wine and a slice of grain cake. Yaga took all of Sarousch in: standing, his back facing towards her, standing rather rigidly, his arms folded behind his back. He was lax and grim together.</p>
<p>To her, he looked like a carved marble statue, inanimate and sullen for God knows how long, though what on earth for, even Yaga couldn't fathom a guess. She would have figured the man would have been ecstatic to enter back into the City of Lovers that he was originally from, to plunder and steal from the innocent Parisian civilians come to bear witness to his circus of freaks.</p>
<p>"And here you are," she warbled in a voice adopted by confidence. Baba Yaga was recognized when Sarousch's angular head turned to the side, parting his head from his knuckles, before turning back towards his pensive staring out his caravan's window with a strangely pensive exhale.</p>
<p>But still, he never looked at her, Yaga's interest piqued.</p>
<p>Baba moved with swift precision towards the window, purposefully blocking Sarousch's view, glancing outside to catch whatever it was that had the man in a right foul mood, and she almost snorted as she caught a glimpse of the young blonde whose company she had just left, still feebly practicing her silly and ridiculous dream of one day walking across a tightrope for Sarousch's circus.</p>
<p>Sarousch's thin lips twitched as he shifted his gaze, albeit reluctantly from the aesthetically pleasing figure of the young blonde on the tightrope, stumbling though she was, to the less-than-pleasant and the somewhat repulsive sight of the haggard, stooped over hooded old crone with wispy greying locks now blocking his view of his loveliest little ornament within his entire circus.</p>
<p>"What's she done <em>now</em>?" she spoke, hoping he would say whatever ailed his mind about the blonde girl who Baba had over the years taken a fondness for, though there was a bit part of her that hoped Sarousch would say she was troubling him so that Yaga could have a talk with the child, help young Madellaine to see the light, that the life she had with Sarousch, wasn't bad.</p>
<p>It was surely better than fending for yourself on the streets, cold and alone. Sarousch's lips were parted but strangely empty of his words. He cleared his throat and merely looked at Yaga with raised, furrowed eyebrows.</p>
<p>With a steady voice, he said his first word ever since she entered the room.</p>
<p>"<em>Everything</em>, Baba. She vexes me, Yaga. Though the girl is quite pretty and easily the prettiest thing in all of Paris to look at, she's a handful. She's bothersome. She almost always misses her cues on stage, staring up at the clouds, always thinking about something or other. This cannot continue to go on, and it has put me in an admittedly foul mood," he barked through gritted teeth as his dark eyes narrowed. "And you've exactly one <em>minute</em> to tell me why you're here."</p>
<p>This time, Yaga shot Sarousch a look: shock with one eye and chafed with the other. She suppressed laughter and merely reached up a withered hand and stroked the top of her raven's head in an affectionate, tender manner.</p>
<p>"I found him." Baba Yaga knew from the moment the words left her mouth that they'd hit their mark, as Sarousch almost spewed the wine from his cup that he'd just swallowed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.</p>
<p>"<em>Where</em>?" he questioned, a harsh, grating bark to his baritone voice.</p>
<p>"Notre Dame de Paris. Where on God's green earth <em>else</em> would the wretch be, Sarousch?" Yaga challenged hotly, narrowing her eyes by way of a retort.</p>
<p>Sarousch turned his head and lifted his gaze in a slow and methodical manner that always reminded the old crone of the way that a panther would stalk its prey in the shadows, narrowing its beady eyes just before lunging.</p>
<p>"How will you lure him out? The boy, from what little Bram witnessed," she added, pausing and chuckling as she swore the bird resting on her shoulder puffed out its chest and preened at the utterance of his name, "is something of a shut-in, Sarousch. I don't think he will come so willingly."</p>
<p>Sarousch narrowed his eyes before shaking his head in disagreement and taking another sip of his wine before setting the chalice down on a small wooden side table, no longer in the mood for the wine. "He will come…"</p>
<p>"What makes you so sure?" Yaga challenged as she stiffly planted herself in Sarousch's chair, ignoring the pointed and withering look he shot her, though Baba merely scoffed and rolled her eyes as Sarousch looked away, back towards the window towards the young blonde, and then it hit her.</p>
<p>Sarousch's eyes looked up to the ceiling of his caravan with his tongue bitten in between his teeth and exhaled slowly as he spoke to Baba Yaga.</p>
<p>"I'll use the girl," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I have the…perfect job for someone like her. Someone with her talents and natural looks, it will be no trouble for her, and no one will need to get hurt, Yaga."</p>
<p>Baba Yaga nodded slowly in understanding. "You think she's pretty."</p>
<p>"The only one suited for a job of this caliber. She's not repulsed by <em>you</em>, is she?" Sarousch shot back meanly, ignoring how Yaga's face flushed red in anger at the barb and physically winced, though Sarousch paid it no mind.</p>
<p>Baba shrugged her shoulders, suggesting she neither cared one way or another. She almost snorted as Sarousch stepped closer towards her, gritting his teeth. Yaga knew Sarousch did not care for the likes of her, but considering Baba had the means and had given him everything he needed in order to make this little scheme of his work, he could not dare turn her away.</p>
<p>Yaga snorted and rolled her eyes in jest as she wasted no time with proper edict or formalities as he strode across the caravan to close off the gap of space, leaning down, placing either of his hands along with the chair's armrests, his long nails raking down the side of the chair, shoving his face close to Yaga's.</p>
<p>She could smell the wine spirits on his breath, though Baba said nothing. "I have allowed you to remain within my circus because of your…abilities with the promise that I do not turn you into the authorities for your...witchcraft, and in exchange, you provide for me, use your magic, find me more <em>freaks</em>," he told her harshly, to which Yaga threw back her head and laughed, her seemingly ancient mortal frame violently shaking with the sheer force of it.</p>
<p>"You don't need my help for that, Sarousch," she warbled, rising from her chair with great difficulty and proceeding to whack the circus's ringmaster out of her path with one sharp jab of her walking stick to his right ribcage. "You do that yourself. Why, you need only look in the mirror, monsieur."</p>
<p>Sarousch's anger welled within his chest as his fists at his sides curled and then loosened and then curled into tight fists again, and he had to turn away as he turned on the heels of his boots and stalked out of his caravan to head towards the tent his foolish servant had decided to practice her tightrope in.</p>
<p>He did not think he could bear to look at Yaga's repulsive face a moment longer, and as he walked away, the details of his plan already forming in his mind, Sarousch frowned as he strode away from his caravan.</p>
<p>However, he did not dare allow himself to look back, for all he would see was his colorful wagon, and perhaps even the witch herself, standing in the flung open doorway, smiling at him.</p>
<p>But even as the distance between himself and the old crone grew, her wicked, cackling laughter followed the ringmaster anyways, caught on the warm spring breeze that gusted through the swaying old oak trees.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>4</strong>
  
</p>
<p><strong>THE </strong>wizened fairy crone’s words echoed in Madellaine’s throbbing eardrums, the only sound she could hear was the blood roaring in her ears.</p>
<p><em>This is your home We are your home. This is the world we live in, young belle. Life won’t get any better for the likes of you and me, mademoiselle belle</em>.</p>
<p>Madellaine knew Yaga had a point but did she really have to put it quite like <em>that</em>? There weren’t many things in life the young blonde wanted for herself. In the rough life of a wandering circus performer, a nomad, she had been bent, bruised, despised, tormented, verbally made fun of, you name it.</p>
<p>Though Madellaine was annoyed at the old fairy witch, she was, for the most part, happy, save for their conversation about her wanting a home still ringing in her ears, though the young blonde squeezed her eyes shut and forced her mind to think of only concentrating on not falling off the rope.</p>
<p>There was always a strange swooping sense of euphoria whenever she was off the ground, despite her immense fear of heights, she found it enthralling.</p>
<p>Madellaine wasn’t quite sure if the adrenaline rush that coursed through her veins as a result of her excitement at walking high above the cruel, cold ground beneath her feet, or her fear of heights. She wasn’t entirely sure. What she <em>was</em> sure of, however, was that it was only her simple act of practicing in an otherwise miserable and desolate existence within Sarousch’s service that kept her truly happy, and the occasional praise from Baba, too.</p>
<p>Her dreams had been shattered in the cruelest of ways, all but one, though her dream of leaving the harsh life of the circus behind and perhaps meeting a kind man, settling down, and having a place of her own to call home was almost laughable. Such a dream was impossible for Madellaine.</p>
<p>The young circus performer was broken. She had no one left in this world, well and truly utterly alone, save for Baba Yaga’s sometimes kindness, when the old hag had it within her to spare a kind word or two to her, then. But even then, those moments of genuine kindness and maternal affection felt rare, and even after Yaga had gone, just as she had a moment ago, Madellaine felt, well, <em>hollow</em>, for lack of a better word. <em>Cold</em>. <em>Alone</em>. Right now, was no different, though the young blonde worked quickly to shake off her feelings of helplessness and despair at her predicament and concentrated on not falling off of the tightrope.</p>
<p>Though before she could so much as take one step further, Master Sarousch’s cold baritone cut the air, eliciting a startled squeak of surprise, causing her to lose her balance and fall. “What have you been <em>doing</em>, my little trinket?” came his smooth, deep voice that Madellaine supposed were this another time and place, might have once made her feeble in the knees and swoon if the girl were more naïve.</p>
<p>The shrillness of her master’s voice caught the young blonde off guard, causing the poor circus performer and magician’s assistant to lose her balance that had been precarious enough as it was completed. Luckily for her, the tightrope she’d fastened to the two wooden support beams of her tent was only three feet up from the ground. Nevertheless, even despite the relatively short distance to fall, the landing still hurt, sending a swell of pain up her arm.</p>
<p>Madellaine’s cheeks flushed a bright red as she finally noticed her master’s imposing figure, shrouded in shadow, standing near the entrance to her tent.</p>
<p>Her heart thrumming wildly against her chest, she tried in vain to explain what it was that she was doing, and she felt a surge of panic prick her heart the moment her bright blue eyes landed on her discarded tray of cold food.</p>
<p>“I—I was…I was <em>standing</em>…” she mumbled in a breathy, terrified squeak, already knowing Sarousch wasn’t convinced by the way the handsome ringmaster of their circus quirked a thick dark brow her way in disbelief. “I mean…uh—o—of course I—I was <em>standing</em>, I mean, I—I haven’t always been <em>sitting</em>, and…” she trailed off, realizing she was once again babbling like an idiot and how utterly foolish and stupid she sounded.</p>
<p>Sarousch was already angry with her, Madellaine could see that much. She could tell by the way a vein in his brow and jaw muscles tensed, how rigidly he was standing, unmoved and as still and lifeless as a pristine marble statue.</p>
<p>“I—I’m <em>sorry</em>,” she stammered, her blush intensifying, already knowing it wasn’t going to be enough to placate her master’s already quite a sour mood. “I…I just want to contribute more to our circus than…this,” she mumbled, gesturing with her cuffed wrists, the golden cuffs glinting even in the dark. Madellaine winced, gritting her teeth as the cold metal dug into the delicate skin of her wrists, hoping that just once, Sarousch would take them off of her and let her explore the city. Baba Yaga was in charge of ‘gifting’ each new troupe member they picked up to ensure the freaks didn’t go outside of the circus’s parameters whenever the troupe set up their camp.</p>
<p>It was an easy way for Sarousch and Yaga to ensure no one escaped this place, though Madellaine, perhaps naively and foolishly, held onto the hope that one day, either one of them would have a change of heart and let her go.</p>
<p>Madellaine let out a breathy little squeak, drawing in another breath of air and held it the moment Sarousch strode towards her spot where she stood, and before she could fathom what was happening, removed her cuffs using the key-wound around a length of cord that he always kept on his person around his neck. There was no escaping your cuffs without Sarousch’s key.</p>
<p>She parted her lips open slightly to speak, though nothing was coming out except a strangled few attempts at speech, and rather than continue to make noises that the girl was sure resembled a dying fish, she clamped her mouth tightly shut and figured Sarousch would provide her an explanation.</p>
<p>Madellaine blinked owlishly at her now-freed wrists before gingerly rubbing at the delicate skin of her wrists where the cuffs had cut into her.</p>
<p>The young blonde bit the wall of her cheek as she waited for her master to explain himself, and it was only when she noticed him staring at her in a strange, dark way that Madellaine wasn’t sure she at all liked within him before he opened his mouth and started to speak.</p>
<p>“I <em>know</em> you want more, and I am giving you the opportunity to <em>do</em> more, my little mademoiselle. Why else do you think I would set you free of <em>these</em>?” he murmured in a low, seductive voice softer than silk as he twirled one of her golden wrist cuffs in between his thumb and forefinger before pocketing them inside his cloak.</p>
<p>“Wh—what is it?” she asked hastily, though fell silent the moment Sarousch shot Madellaine a truly admonishing look that made her begin to feel incredibly uneasy, not to mention, more than just a little perturbed, so she thought the best course of action was to favor silence as an apt response.</p>
<p>“I found the one I’ve heard so many rumors about, little dove,” was all Sarousch said as he turned his back to her, ignoring her gasp of surprise.</p>
<p>Though the ringmaster’s back was turned to her and Madellaine knew the man couldn’t see it, she drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and felt her sky-blue almond-shaped irises dilate in the dark and grow round in awe.</p>
<p>They had <em>found</em> him, then? The hunchback of Notre Dame. The fair-skinned woman furrowed her thin eyebrows as she let her mind wander a bit.</p>
<p>The circus performer had heard many tales about the mysterious man in question, a myth as she was previously led to believe, nothing but a phantasm. Somethings of the man was good, however, most of them…not.</p>
<p>The topic made Madellaine feel incredibly uneasy, not to mention a little bit claustrophobic, so she’d tried to avoid that point of conversation in gossip during dinner with her fellow freaks as much as was possible for her.</p>
<p>Something nestled deep within her heart and the dark recesses of the young blonde woman’s mind did not feel right at all talking so atrociously about someone that she did not know, nor had she ever met before, though she could tell as Sarousch’s profile was turned to the side, by the way the man’s eyes narrowed until they were practically slits and the glint that was slowly surely developing within them, that she was to meet the man soon.</p>
<p>She’d heard talk like this of him almost every hour within their first night of Paris, it seemed to be all that the other members of their troupe could talk about.</p>
<p>And Madellaine hated to admit it, but as much as the topic scared her, unnerved her to no end, there was a part of her that had become intrigued by it, and she could not help but think of the mysterious man on occasion.</p>
<p>Who <em>was</em> he? Was the creature really a <em>monster</em>, an accursed wretch like everyone said?</p>
<p>Madellaine had hoped to learn the truth for herself, one way or another. She wanted to see him, to see with her own two eyes if the rumors held true. Well, now it would seem that Sarousch was giving her no choice at all, and her suspicions were more or less confirmed as he spoke up. The moment Sarousch turned to the side to look at his assistant, Madellaine wished her master would have kept his gaze fixed on something else, anything else, but at her. She gulped and waited for the man to speak.</p>
<p>His voice was cold, his tone flat and listless, conveying none of whatever dark emotions were currently waging war through his twisted scheming mind. “I have the <em>perfect</em> job in mind for a girl like <em>you</em>, my little bonbon. One suited to your…talents, let’s call them. I want that wretch for our troupe, little dove, and from what Baba was able to tell me earlier, the boy is something of a recluse, and hides away in the towers of Notre Dame, girl.”</p>
<p>Madellaine slowly nodded her head at all of the information as her brain worked a mile a minute to process just what was her part in all of this, though she dared not speak out against Sarousch, lest she valued not getting hurt. Her cheek still stung, the welt evident from the last time he’d hit her.</p>
<p>When she did manage to regain her voice, her words were faint as the wind. “What…what do you want <em>me</em> for, Master?” she whispered quietly.</p>
<p>“I want you to go up there and…bat those pretty eyelashes of yours. <em>Smile</em> at him, wile and beguile the boy, and something tells me he’ll come down from his dark towers to catch a glimpse of the maiden that stole his heart.”</p>
<p>Sarousch turned his head to the side, barely stifling his little smirk as the girl numbly nodded her agreement, the smart girl that she was, knowing she’d have no other choice available but to do as Sarousch demanded of her.</p>
<p>“Why <em>me</em>?” she questioned, unable to stop her shoulders from slumping forward in disappointment. “Couldn’t one of the other girls like Violet or Tandy do it?” she begged, biting down on her bottom lip in a slight pout.</p>
<p>“No,” Sarousch answered almost immediately by way of retort. “<em>You</em> are the only one suited for a job of this nature, my little dove. There’s no one better. You’ll do this for me, because if you won’t do it, then <em>I</em> will, and if <em>I</em> will, then you’re not going to like it if I have to get involved. He’ll get <em>hurt</em>.”</p>
<p>The ringmaster smirked, ignoring the enraged expression on the girl’s face as he turned away and continued speaking, disregarding her obvious growing discomfort. “Consider yourself lucky, my trinket. Was I anybody else, you’d be <em>whipped</em> for disobeying my commands, not wanting to go along with it.”</p>
<p>Madellaine bit down on her bottom lip, a hesitant look overcoming her pale features. Sarousch furrowed his brows into a frown as he waited for her.</p>
<p>“If I…if I do this for you, will you let me go, Master?” she whispered, wondering where it was on earth that she’d gotten the audacity to ask him.</p>
<p>The girl left her question hanging in the air for several excruciating moments before the ringmaster’s assistant realized she’d made a grave mistake in asking her master this question, cursing herself inside her mind.</p>
<p>She really was a blind and bloody fool, a stupid girl with stupid dreams who never learned. “Will I be free?” she asked when he did not answer her.</p>
<p>“No,” Sarousch growled instantly, his voice a smooth, seductive purr as he felt a shift within himself as something dark and festering began to rear its ugly head within the confines of his chest. “You belong to me, little dove,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Who took you in, looked after you like a true friend?” he challenged, quirking a brow at her while he awaited her answer.</p>
<p>“<em>You</em> did,” Madellaine sighed, lowering her head, and averting his gaze.</p>
<p>“That’s right,” he snapped, nodding his agreement, and once more turning his back. “It’s really quite simple, darling, I don’t know why you’re putting up such a <em>fuss</em>. Just…go up there, talk to him, engage him in a conversation, smile at him, flirt with him, and he’ll come down to see you, and then, when the timing is right, he’ll be ours. Think of the farthings and shillings we’ll make off of having Notre Dame’s own <em>freak</em> in our ranks.”</p>
<p>Madellaine did not particularly <em>want</em> to imagine such a horrible thought, though the girl could tell by the growing impatience in her master’s dark eyes that he had grown bored of trying to convince her, and that their conversation had reached its end. Sarousch nodded quietly to his servant, keeping his arms clasped behind his back as he turned on the heels of his boots to go, leaving her alone without a word, leaving her in the silence to ponder her fate, and wonder just what it was she’d gotten herself into now…</p>
<hr/>
<p>Distant thunder loomed overhead as black and purple rolling thunderclouds fifteen minutes post-Madellaine’s ‘conversation’ with Sarousch, which was very much one-sided, and consisted of her listening to the details of his plan while she remained more or less obedient and mute.</p>
<p>For the better part of fifteen minutes, ever since she had aimlessly walked the pathway through the bustling streets of the Parisian marketplace, wherever ‘here’ happened to be for her, Madellaine knew she was somehow lost, despite seeing the towering silhouettes of the various parapets and buttresses of the magnificent Gothic cathedral looming in the distance.</p>
<p>Madellaine wasn’t sure at all how it happened, but she was <em>lost</em>, and all throughout the walk to Notre Dame de Paris, her cheeks burned and flamed.</p>
<p>Other women in her troupe said that the love of a good man was pleasurable, something to be enjoyed. So much, in fact, that menfolk would sometimes even <em>pay</em> women for it, though she couldn’t fathom that idea.</p>
<p>Madellaine didn’t bother to repress the violent shiver that clawed its way up and down her spine as she gritted her teeth, shaking her head to rid her mind of the unpleasant mental images her mind had started to conjure.</p>
<p>She hoped that her life would never get to that point where she was so desperate for money that she would be forced to stoop to those measures.</p>
<p>People throughout her life had always said that she was a beautiful and bright young woman. But if she were beautiful, she’d have not been cast aside, left alone in the streets to fend for herself, but no relatives of her parents had stepped forth to claim her when both her parents died of fever.</p>
<p>Madellaine gritted her teeth as snippets of her and Sarousch’s conversation continued to flit through the forefront of her troubled mind.</p>
<p><em>All you need to do is to look pretty for him. Lure him out, and I’ll take care of the rest, little trinket, and no one will get hurt, my pretty little bird</em>.</p>
<p>Madellaine made an odd disparaging noise at the back of her throat and found it rather difficult not to roll her eyes upon hearing Sarousch’s voice echo inside her mind. “Humph. ‘Take care of the rest’ he says,” she hissed.</p>
<p>She was surprised at how shaky her own voice was, and a low booming rumble of thunder above her head caused the young blonde to jump and bound forward on the heels of her brown leather boots, not minding her movements, nor had she been paying attention to where she was going.</p>
<p>“I need to—oh, excuse me!” Madellaine squeaked, staggering backward the moment she felt a pair of delicate hands grip onto both of her shoulders, righting her posture as she helped her to stand up. Whoever was now touching her was a woman, Madellaine could tell that much, for the person’s fingers were long, slender, their long nails neatly manicured and well-kept.</p>
<p>A brief glint of a yellow gold wedding ring on the woman’s left ring finger told the young blonde that whoever had saved her from a right nasty fall just now was a married woman. Madellaine felt the heat creep to her cheeks as she nervously lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet the woman’s gaze.</p>
<p>Madellaine’s face flushed an even brighter shade of crimson as the other woman took a cautious half-step backward, a pair of brilliantly forest green irises the color of pale moss studying her, scrutinizing the young blonde’s form, no doubt carefully monitoring her condition in case she fell again.</p>
<p>A terrified, shamefaced squeak escaped her lips, but the moment her lips parted open to speak as she stumbled over her attempt to stammer out an apology, the other woman interjected in a low, husky, almost seductive tone, her voice softer than silk that immediately made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright.</p>
<p>“Are you all right?” the other woman asked her kindly.</p>
<p>“I—y—yes, I—I’m terribly sorry, mademoiselle, I didn’t mean to—to bump into you like that, I—I wasn’t watching where I was going, milady,” Madellaine whispered, horrified at how the day could have come to this.</p>
<p>Not even her first full day in Paris and already, she was making a klutz of herself and her clumsiness was sure to be recognized through the whole city.</p>
<p>“It’s quite all right,” she offered in a soothing voice, and as Madellaine realized with a shaking breath as she inhaled and exhaled slowly through her nose that this other woman, this stranger, was not mad at her for almost bowling her over, she began to grow more comfortable around the woman.</p>
<p>“Th—thank you,” Madellaine squeaked, inclining her head by way of gratitude, and when she lifted her head and met the woman’s gaze, the other, slightly older woman’s natural beauty and flawless gracefulness stole her breath away.</p>
<p>The other woman was taller, with slightly tanned skin and a wild head of raven-black ebony curls that cascaded in natural ringlets to just past the tips of slender, if not slightly bony collarbones, her hair framing an angular, oval-shaped face with delicate features. Though it was the woman’s green eyes that captured Madellaine’s attention the most, as they glistened with a sparkle of intrigue as she caught Madellaine staring at the front doors of the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris, a set of wide oaken double doors.</p>
<p>“It’s a pretty sight, isn’t it?” Madellaine turned her head to find the other woman staring at her, standing on the frontmost step of the great cathedral’s walkway. She really <em>was</em> lovely, and yet, the blonde circus performer couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this new she-stranger was somehow <em>spying</em>.</p>
<p>It sent a chill down her spine, though Madellaine fought it back down.</p>
<p>“I—it is,” Madellaine breathed, having to agree with the older woman on her assessment of the magnificent cathedral, imposing and intimidating to her as it was, especially in the dark formidable light of the coming storm.</p>
<p>The other woman held up a tanned hand to stop her the moment Madellaine started to stammer out an apology. “Please. There’s no need for this, we’re past it. I—I’m sorry,” she began politely, nervously fidgeting with her wedding band on her finger, “but I don’t think I caught your name?”</p>
<p>Madellaine’s face flushed as she looked down. “Madellaine de Barreau.”</p>
<p>“Esmeralda,” the other woman answered with a quick, kind smile as she craned her neck over her shoulder to look towards the front wooden doors. “What brings you to the cathedral today? If you’ve come for the morning Mass, I’m afraid you’ve missed it, but they do an afternoon Mass shortly after lunch, and then Vespers in the evening.” She paused, her eyes making a quick scan of the blonde and her simple attire as she looked towards Madellaine out of the corner of her eye. “You are part of the circus, yes?”</p>
<p>“I—y—yes, I am, b—but how did you know that?” Madellaine stammered, feeling her eyes go wide and round with shock as her lips parted, slightly agape, though she felt as though she were bereft of something to say.</p>
<p>The woman whose name she now knew to be Esmeralda regarded her in a somewhat incredulous, though not necessarily unkind, manner. “Your caravans came through town last night. My people and I know most of the citizens within this city, and since I don’t recall seeing you before as you look <em>new</em> here, then I call it a lucky guess to say that you came with the circus?”</p>
<p>“O—oh,” she stammered, suddenly feeling foolish, breathing out what was supposed to be nervous laughter, and she could tell by the way Esmeralda cocked a thin dark eyebrow Madellaine’s way she wasn’t convinced. Though, maybe… Madellaine hesitated, chewing on the wall of her mouth as her gaze flitted from Esmeralda and then back to the doors.</p>
<p><em>She says she knows almost everyone. Does that include the hunchback? Well. Only one way to find out.</em> Steeling herself, Madellaine blew out a deep breath as she began to speak, all the while continuing to cast her gaze to the sky, wanting to keep an eye on the darkening storm clouds rolling in from the east, sure to unleash hell on them both if they couldn’t find any cover.</p>
<p>“I…I…perhaps you can help me, milady, I—I’m looking for the…the bell ringer,” Madellaine whispered in a small and meek-sounding faint voice.</p>
<p>Madellaine wasn't sure what she was expecting upon her confession of why she'd sought out the cathedral (it certainly wasn't to pray), but for the woman to stun a bit at her words and stiffen upon hearing them was...not exactly a good sign, and it wasn't what the young blonde had been expecting.</p>
<p>“Oh?” she questioned, her pale green irises hardening slightly at this revelation. “It just so happens that he’s a good <em>friend</em> of mine. Do you know him?” she asked, narrowing her eyes until they were mere slits, reminding the young blonde of a pit viper’s snakelike pupils as she looked at Madellaine in suspicion. “Considering you’re…relatively <em>new</em> here, how is that, milady?”</p>
<p>“I…” Words left Madellaine as she forced herself to look into the eyes of Esmeralda, not wanting to stare into those piercing eyes of green that seemed to bore a hole straight through her eyes, those blue windows to her soul, and see straight through to her wretched, wicked heart of having no other choice but having to go along with Sarousch’s ridiculous plan, and she abhorred it.</p>
<p>Silence fell between the two young women as Madellaine wracked her brain for something to say, but the fact that Madellaine could feel the thick tension in how this Esmeralda was regarding her, did not sit well with her.</p>
<p>She did not like it. Not one bit. Her eyes, cold emerald, were masked with a soft smile and a friendly enough face, but something inside Esmeralda chilled it. Madellaine wasn’t sure if it was because she perceived this other woman to hold a fierce protectiveness for her friend who was otherwise like her, an outcast, a freak, disregarded and unwanted, or if it was something else. Madellaine swore she saw the tightening in Esmeralda’s sharp jawline.</p>
<p>Was it hate? Protectiveness? Loathing? Jealousy. Either way, the blonde circus performer found herself swallowing and finally found her voice again.</p>
<p>“I—I n—no, I—I don’t know him, E—Esmeralda, but I merely thought that…well, I—I’ve heard…<em>stories</em>, and I wanted to see if they were true.” She cringed as her pitiful attempt of an excuse left her mouth in weak stammers, and her face flushed a bright crimson as she realized how that must all sound.</p>
<p>Esmeralda clicked her tongue, breaking the awkward silence between them. She was still looking at Madellaine in a way that the blonde wasn’t sure she liked, nor one that she could fully trust, though before she could open her mouth to articulate her point, to emphasize that she meant no harm, she spoke up in a soft, kind enough voice, though with a twinge of suspicion.</p>
<p>“I think, Madellaine, that if you have…<em>questions</em>, for my friend, then you should ask him them <em>yourself</em>, since you seem to be so curious about him, after all,” she added, a brief mischievous flicker dating through her pale green irises, though she quickly turned serious. “He has some downtime before the afternoon Mass, so you’ll catch him at a good time. He’s had a difficult life, but if you ask me, I think it would be good for him if the man were to make another friend. You can find his tower up the stairwell to your left.”</p>
<p>Esmeralda offered a curt nod to Madellaine as she turned on her heels and left, without so much as another word to the fair-skinned young blonde, who stared after the slender, ebony-haired woman’s retreat for a moment, blinking owlishly at the older woman until she rounded a corner and vanished. Her breath hitched in her throat, her thundering heart pounding in her chest as excitement, fear, and adrenaline pumped through her veins.</p>
<p>The steps. Madellaine was right in front of the steps. Was it too late to turn back? To head back to the campsite and tell Sarousch she wouldn’t?</p>
<p>Unfortunately, no. Madellaine swallowed thickly down past the lump in her throat as she flitted her gaze back towards the grey steps of the building.</p>
<p>For a moment, she wondered if one of the grotesque stone gargoyles that were meant to leer down at the parishioners and incite the wrath of God into the people of Paris were watching her, assessing why Madellaine had come.</p>
<p>She wasn’t going to be able to stand out here forever, not with the storm. Almost as if on cue, a low crackle of thunder rent the otherwise silent air around her, startling the overwhelmed young blonde so badly, a squeak escaped her lips as she realized she needed to go inside the cathedral now.</p>
<p>People would surely talk if they saw a young woman standing seemingly petrified on the steps of Notre Dame in the middle of a bad thunderstorm.</p>
<p>The flustered, panicked young woman forced aside her thoughts of Esmeralda to the back of her mind for now, though there was a part of her that feared and reviled how the older ebony-haired woman had looked at her, as though she was not one to be trusted around her friend, this demon.</p>
<p>Madellaine gulped, licking her lips, and squeezing her eyes shut. In a way, Esmeralda would be right in that regard. She wasn’t one to be trusted at all.</p>
<p>She mumbled a quick, whispered prayer under her breath as she gathered the skirts of her ivory chemise and dark forest green overdress in her hands to avoid tripping over the long hem, making her way up the stone steps swiftly.</p>
<p>As she made it to the large entrance, those wide oak double doors, Madellaine halted in hesitation, her unblinking blue eyes gazing at the doorhandle that she knew she needed to pull in order to open up the doors. But then if she did this, if she opened the door and crossed the threshold from out here and into this holy House of God, there was no going back.</p>
<p>A slight spring breeze blew past her, the soft fabric of her dress and chemise flowing behind her, exposing the bottom half of her simple attire. Her short blonde hair blew away from her face, not that she had much of it, to begin with, and her bangs off of her forehead as the wind picked up. Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own as she rose it to the door, her limbs no longer taking directions from her own mind, acting of their own will. Her slender fingers curled around the chipped handle, though she shook.</p>
<p>“Ugh. I really <em>am</em> a <em>stupid</em> woman for agreeing to do this,” she moaned, for what had to be the tenth time to herself in the last half-hour.</p>
<p>She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, thinking that she needed to do this before she lost her resolve. If she didn’t, Sarousch would punish her. And <em>that</em>, well, she didn’t like to think <em>what</em> would happen if she went back to the campsite and told Sarousch she wouldn’t go through with this. Madellaine gave her head a curt shake to rid her mind of her obtrusive thoughts of her master, and with a firm twist and a little bit of a push, the massive oak door creaked open, though she had to grunt in order to do it.</p>
<p>Through the cracked door, her delicate, curious blue eyes peered cautiously and curiously into the darkness of the massive, empty church.</p>
<p>Madellaine breathed out a heavy, relieved exhale as she gingerly slipped her petite frame through the set of double oak doors, and vanished into the darkness. She was smart enough not to allow herself to look back even once.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>5</strong>
  
</p>
<p><strong>THE</strong> beauty once the doors of the cathedral shut firmly behind her almost took Madellaine’s breath away like the thief she knew herself to be. The young blonde looked around the magnificent cathedral with awe and excitement in her bones that currently was outweighing her nervousness and trepidations at what Sarousch was asking her to do. The chance to explore Notre Dame, the corridors, the passageways, the various artwork was the chance of a lifetime. She wasn’t sure that she would get another chance, then.</p>
<p>Her breaths almost caught in her throat at the sight of the immaculate Gothic church. Each candle lined the long aisle, and the scent from the small candles lighted throughout here and there were calming to the young blonde. The lights from the small fires draped over her petite form in such a strange way, that Madellaine had a hard time not staring at the shadows dancing along the walls.</p>
<p>“Wow,” she breathed in an awestruck voice, not sure what to say. In the warm candlelight, her pale skin held a sun-kissed glow. Her hands nervously folded over themselves, pressing into her chest as she walked forward. Everything here was positively breathtaking. Madellaine looked around, sensing that Esmeralda had been correct in her initial statement outside the doors. Morning Mass had indeed concluded as there were no pews out.</p>
<p>The thought stirred a bittersweet feeling of resentment within her, and suddenly, the young blonde thief almost felt unclean and unworthy to be in such a breathtaking House of God.</p>
<p>Madellaine herself was never quite sure if she believed in God, considering how awful her life circumstances had turned out.</p>
<p>She took a small, hesitant step forward, now almost shrouded in the darkness the further into the cathedral she went.</p>
<p>Though as Madellaine caught a glimpse of a winding stone stairwell off towards her left, it was just as that woman, Esmeralda, had said. She reminded herself to thank the other woman later if she happened to run into her again while exploring Paris’s streets.</p>
<p>Trepidation coupled with nervousness began to seep its way unbidden to the surface of her chest, almost to the point of bursting. The church’s bell ringer, so she had been told by others in their traveling circus and hearing the gossip from the other townsfolk while she’d gotten lost on her walk over here to find the cathedral, had made it known the man was a famous recluse. The bell ringer was rumored to leave the comfort and security of his bell towers very rarely, despite the man having saved the city.</p>
<p>She wondered why that was. If the rumors of him were true. If the man in a show of god-like strength really had managed to break four white marble pillars in order to escape his lengths of iron-wrought chains, just to free a woman from burning to death.</p>
<p>Madellaine busied herself, pausing at the frontmost step of the stairwell to take in the magnificence of the illustrious cathedral, having to crane her neck this way and that to try to absorb it all in. She reached out to touch the cold stone walls, the only light emanating from the lit torches in the sconces on the walls above her, and from a few lighted candelabras scattered throughout as well. She was so enraptured with the stained glass artwork of the windows that sent colorful light throughout that she jumped, letting out a breathy, terrified squeak when she felt the strong, tempered hand of what was undoubtedly a man’s hand grip her shoulder.</p>
<p>She jumped back, ready to apologize with a bright pink blush covering her cheeks as she turned on the heels of her boots.</p>
<p>And found herself face-to-face with a cloaked figure, who flushed and stammered, immediately beginning to try to correct himself, not anticipating that he would have run into Madellaine.</p>
<p>“E—excuse me, I—I didn’t know that someone was…<em>here</em>, I—I didn’t mean to…to run into you, m—milady, f—forgive me,” he stammered, it was obviously a man’s voice, judging by his tall stature and the smooth, rich, melodious tones of his tenor-like voice. Madellaine blinked owlishly at the cloaked figure, her eyes soon landing on the man’s form, the owner of this magnificent voice. It was odd. Or more accurately, the man himself was…odd.</p>
<p>The presumably young man that stood before he didn’t sound much older than her, twenty-one, maybe twenty-two, at best. He towered over her, standing at around 6’2, maybe 6’3, a giant of sorts in comparison to her height of around 5’2 on a good day, and that was if she wore her brown leather boots with the heels, as she was doing right now. The tip of her nose barely reached the man’s broad chest as it was, making her feel quite tiny.</p>
<p>His towering form was adorned with a thick woolen navy blue cloak that he had to surely be dying of heatstroke underneath in this warm May weather. The cloak obscured most of his face and most of his frame. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment as she took in the strange sight of him.</p>
<p> “I—I’m so sorry, monsieur, I—I was just lost in thought for a moment a—and I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she murmured, grabbing fistfuls of the skirts of her dress, and sinking into a low curtsy. It did not escape the blonde’s attention how the man seemed to give a start at her words, or the way his head underneath his cloak turned slightly upon hearing her call him ‘monsieur.” This gave Madellaine pause. Was he not used to be addressed by proper edict?</p>
<p>She furrowed her brows into a frown. Her confusion only escalated as the man wrang his gloved hands in front of him as though he were nervous, picking at a loose string that was coming undone on one of his fingerless leather hide gloves. Madellaine had to resist the urge to smack the man’s hand away, to scold him and tell him to let it alone before he picked at it until there was nothing left.</p>
<p>The cloaked figure appeared to be eyeing the coloring of her cheeks with a strange, curious interest, though he looked away soon enough for Madellaine not to think it too strange. He nervously coughed once to clear his throat, still keeping his profile turned to the side. “U—um…I—is there something I—I can help you with?”</p>
<p>“Y—yes, I—I’m terribly sorry, monsieur, I—I can be clumsy at times,” Madellaine murmured, a fiery heat scorching her cheeks as she nervously wrang her hands in front of her in a nervous fit.</p>
<p>A pang of hesitation at asking this seemingly kind man in front of her welled within her chest, not knowing how the fellow would react to the question that she was about to pose to him now.</p>
<p>“M—Maybe you can help me,” she murmured in a quiet voice, squeezing her eyes shut and inwardly cursing herself for her incessant babbling, a trait Sarousch always got onto her for and hounded her, sometimes going as far as using the whip on her back.</p>
<p>She immediately realized where she was and mumbled a quick prayer to God, if He existed, under her breath for spewing such a foul thought in the House of God, even if in her own mind.</p>
<p>Madellaine exhaled a slightly shaking breath through her nose and took a step forward towards the stairwell. She couldn’t be sure, but she swore she saw the cloaked man stiffen slightly at that.</p>
<p>Though the moment she turned back around to face him, her dress swaying ever so slightly with her movements, he allowed himself to relax, the tension in his shoulders leaving him instantly.</p>
<p>“W—with what?” he muttered in a low voice, his nervous stammer worsening the longer he spent around her, causing a pang of pity to tug at Madellaine’s heartstrings. He’d no need to fear her.</p>
<p>“I—I’m looking for the—the bell ringer of the church, I—a nice woman outside named Esmeralda told me I could find him here? I—is he here, would you happen to know for sure, monsieur?” She did not know what kind of reaction she had been expecting this stranger in front of her to have, but for the man’s nervous demeanor to grow tenfold was…admittedly <em>not</em> it. Madellaine heard the cloaked figure let out an audible gasp of surprise, the twisting of his hands worsening as he followed his gaze, though Madellaine could not see it, in front of the dark stairwell.  “I take it this staircase leads up to the bell towers?” she asked, a hint of excitement seeping through her voice, despite her best efforts to quell it down while she waited for the man to answer.</p>
<p>“Th—that’s right,” he murmured in a thoughtful voice. He paused, sounding hesitant and unsure of himself before he summoned the courage to speak again, not meeting her gaze, or at least, that was the way it seemed to Madellaine, but considering the hood of his cloak shrouded the man’s features from her, it was hard for her to tell the current expression his face wore as they talked.</p>
<p>She wished he would lower his hood and meet her gaze.</p>
<p>“A—are you <em>lost</em>, m—milady? I—if you’re looking for the Archdeacon, h—he was spotted last near the kitchens that way,” he muttered, lifting one of his hands and pointing in the opposite direction. “Th-this staircase leads to the bell towers, mademoiselle. Why are you h—<em>here</em>? Why…why do you want to see the bell ringer? F—forgive me for asking. I—I could h—hear you moving around,” he asked, his stammer growing less and less, Madellaine noticed, the longer he spent in her company, so that was good.</p>
<p>If nothing else, it meant he was growing more comfortable around her, and in time, she wondered if he would lower his hood.</p>
<p>“You could <em>hear</em> me?” Madellaine asked, shocked. Quickly realizing how accusatory that must sound to the young man, who seemed like he was only trying to help her, the blush along her cheeks intensified and she immediately stammered trying to correct herself, ducking her head and sinking into another apologetic curtsy before straightening her posture and looking at him. “Forgive me, i—it’s just that…I’m new to Paris and don’t know too many people. You are one of the first who’s shown me kindness.” Madellaine’s expression changed only slightly. She straightened her back and folded her arms behind her back, swallowing down hard past a lump in her throat, feeling ashamed.</p>
<p>Well, of course, this kind man was going to ask her that. What <em>else</em> had Madellaine been thinking that he would say to her? To be quite honest with herself, she could not very well divulge the truth to this man, as friendly and kind as he seemed, that Sarousch had sent her here under the threat of pain and death.</p>
<p>Oooh, that would go over just <em>swimmingly</em>, she could almost picture the conversation in her mind. Madellaine let out a sigh and reached up a slightly trembling hand to tuck back a wisp of her short blonde hair back behind her ear as she pondered what to say.</p>
<p>Madellaine furrowed her brows as she could not help but read between the lines of the man’s question he’d just posed to her.</p>
<p>There was just a faint hint of fear laced throughout his voice, as though she thought perhaps she meant to harm the bell ringer. That was honestly the furthest thing from her mind right now, no matter how hideous the young man was rumored to look.</p>
<p>The young blonde couldn’t help but wonder if the church’s bell ringer had suffered problems in the past of people wanting to come to the church and climb up to his tower only to catch a glimpse of the ‘monster.’ She wouldn’t put it past a group of stupid young children, boys, probably, to pull an awful stunt like that, so in that regard, she understood and respected the man’s hesitance.</p>
<p>“Ah…” she started to say, cringing upon hearing the faint warbling note in her voice while she racked her brain for something to say, but no other answer other than to divulge Sarousch’s stupid plan was coming up. Was it to ask the bell ringer questions, then?</p>
<p><em>No</em>. <em>No</em>. That was the last thing that the man in question needed from her. Madellaine frowned, thinking for a moment. Maybe…maybe she was here to help him, though in what way, she did not know. All she knew was that, despite never having once laid eyes on the man, she was tired of the way Parisians gossiped about him behind his back, as if he were a kind of demon. She returned her gaze back to the man in front of her as an answer, and a rather pitiable one at that came to her mind.</p>
<p>She wished she had more time to come up with an adequate response, but it was going to have to be good enough for now, as she could briefly sense the faint aura of annoyance creeping off the man’s pores while he waited for her to gather her thoughts.</p>
<p>“I—I’m with the circus that’s come to Paris, monsieur. My—my name is Madellaine and I just <em>love</em> the sound of the bells in the morning. I—I was hoping that I could get a good look at all of them, monsieur.”</p>
<p>Madellaine eyed the cloaked figure cautiously out of the corner of her peripherals as she returned her attention up to the bell tower stairwell, lifting the skirts of her dress a bit as she put one step on the topmost stairwell, and she saw the man flinch a bit.</p>
<p>When he spoke, his tenor-like tone was light and breathless, bordering somewhere between incredulity and stunned disbelief.</p>
<p>“Y—you <em>do</em>?” he questioned, sounding like he couldn’t quite believe her words. “I—I could…i—introduce you to them if you want,” he answered after a long moment’s pause, still keeping his face covered with the hood of his cloak and his profile to the side.</p>
<p>Though this man was still quite nervous about her, there was something about his gentleness and a shy demeanor that was endearing to her, immediately arousing excitement in Madellaine’s breast that this was actually going to happen. Finally, she’d meet him, and for a moment, she’d quite forgotten about her master’s plan of luring him outside these stone walls and to Sarousch’s circus. His generous offer had Madellaine feeling slightly taken aback and not at all sure how to respond, but it was enough, then.</p>
<p>“I—I would like that very much, monsieur. You—you <em>know</em> him, the—the church’s bell ringer?” she asked, her insatiable curiosity almost getting the better of her as she watched him wince.</p>
<p>He looked at her for a moment before turning his back to her, motioning with a wave of his arm to follow him up the stairs.</p>
<p>“We’ve met,” he answered simply, and it was then as the realization dawned on Madellaine’s features and in her sky-blue eyes that this was actually happening. She was going to meet him.</p>
<p>Goosebumps broke out over her skin as a small, sensuous smile spread across her lips, though she knew he couldn’t see it.</p>
<p>“Really?” Madellaine responded in a breathless whisper, so faint that for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had spoken at all. She had to lift the hem of the skirts of her dress to avoid tripping as she followed the man up the winding, seemingly endless staircase of stone. “You are his friend, monsieur? What is he like, this man?”</p>
<p>He stopped at the top of the tower’s landing for a moment, considering his response. It was a moment before he spoke again.</p>
<p>“He’s…shy,” was all that he answered, sounding hesitant, but as if he wanted to say more to her, and Madellaine still couldn’t see his face, though she could almost imagine the pained look that flitted across the man’s face, whatever he looked like. She furrowed her thin eyebrows at his insistence not to remove his heavy cloak.</p>
<p>“Are you not hot?” Madellaine questioned, a sudden foreign feeling beginning to well within the confines of her chest. It took the young blonde circus performer a moment to realize she was suspicious of this stranger, who she hoped would be a new friend.</p>
<p>He had nothing to fear by removing his cloak in front of her.</p>
<p>“E—extremely,” he answered after yet another long and a rather awkward pause. “B—but…it’s better this way, milady. It is.”</p>
<p>Madellaine parted her lips slightly to ask another question, though she did not get a chance as the two paused outside an old wooden door, and her breaths caught in her throat as he spoke.</p>
<p>“<em>Attends</em>,” he murmured in that magnificent voice. “<em>S’il Vous plait</em>, I will, ah…. announce your presence to him, mademoiselle, follow me inside, feel free to look around if you would like, i—it’s not much, where this bell ringer lives, but it’s home to him,” he said softly, his tone shifting, and he almost sounded tender and affectionate before turning slightly to look at Madellaine’s figure, her silhouette shrouded in the darkness of the tower as she stood waiting. “H—he is…quite shy, a—and what if he doesn’t show his face to you? Will you…will you leave I—if he doesn’t come out?”</p>
<p>He left his question hanging in the air between him, and for a moment, Madellaine could only blink owlishly at the tall man.</p>
<p>She hesitated as she thought of what she would do. Sarousch was going to just have to be patient if this bell ringer were as shy as this man was telling her to be, and she came to the conclusion that she was probably going to have to come back a couple of times before the young man would be comfortable enough to show himself to her. “Then I’ll <em>wait</em>,” she answered simply with a light little shrug of her shoulders. “Would he mind then if I sat and talked with him, then? He can…stay in the shadows. I don’t mind.”</p>
<p>The cloaked figure fumbled the key in his gloved hand that he had been using to turn the mechanisms of the lock and made an odd, strangled noise in the back of his throat, a noise of disbelief.</p>
<p>“Y—you would…talk with him, without seeing him, milady?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” she answered, quirking a brow in suspicion at this endearing man’s odd behavior, wondering why the shift in his countenance, though she had no time to ponder as the door creaked and gave a loud groan as it unlocked, and he pulled it open for her.</p>
<p>“I—I’m sure h—he’d <em>like</em> that. M—more than you know, a—and more than he could put into words. H—he is quite lonely sometimes, m—milady, h—he doesn’t get out much,” he said softly. He ducked his head and motioned for Madellaine to enter inside.</p>
<p>Without waiting to see if the man had followed her in, though she could feel his presence hovering over her as she nervously set one foot over the threshold of the top of the stairwell and into the bell tower’s north loft, Madellaine didn’t look back.</p>
<p>“H—he lives <em>here</em>?” she breathed, her blue eyes going wide and round with shock once they’d adjusted to the dim lighting, her breaths catching in her throat, her words dying upon her tongue.</p>
<p>“Whole life,” answered a <em>new</em> voice, a magnificent voice that startled the young blonde so badly a squeak of surprise left her lips.</p>
<p>The frazzled young blonde staggered backward, her heart thundering relentlessly in her chest, a hand over her racing heart.</p>
<p>One glance behind her over her shoulder was more than enough. Her pupils dilated even in the dark as she realized what had happened. The cloaked fellow was nowhere to be found, and she’d not heard his footsteps recede or come closer, which meant…</p>
<p>Which meant… A cold chill wafted down her spine that she knew had nothing to do with the gusts of drafty wind that Madellaine knew had nothing to do with the bursts of spring air that wafted through the drafty tower loft as she looked to the left and right for any signs of the kind man who’d led her up the stairs here.</p>
<p>It meant that <em>he</em> was the bell ringer of Notre Dame. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, smacking the palm of her head on her forehead, and dragging it alongside the side of her face, an exasperated look on her face. She really <em>was</em> a stupid girl. A stupid young woman with stupid dreams who never learned at all.</p>
<p>A small pang of hesitation rested within her at the man she had just met. It was all making sense now. His reluctance to show his face, how quickly he’d taken to hiding in the shadows, his stutter from his nervousness, and initial trepidation to let her up.</p>
<p>She knew she didn’t want to frighten him in any way, so she’d be cautious for you. “H—hello? I—I <em>know</em> it’s you. You’re…Quasimodo, is that right?” she called out, cringing how loud her voice echoed and reverberated in the man’s empty tower.</p>
<p>She couldn’t fathom someone naming their child such a cruel name, but then again, if half the stories she’d heard in the taverns of the man and his upbringing were true, the deceased Judge Frollo had not exactly been kind to the bell ringer growing up. It seemed a moment before he spoke, though she couldn’t be sure, she swore she heard the bell ringer gasp in surprise.</p>
<p>“Y—yes, th—that would be my n—name,” came his magnificent voice, which radiated from all corners of the tower, rendering it almost impossible for Madellaine to tell where he was.</p>
<p>He was stuttering less now, so that had to count for something, right? Madellaine exhaled a shaking breath, feeling like a bloody fool for letting the man essentially get one over on her.</p>
<p>Though a faint mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her lips. <em>Well</em>. Two could play at that game. He’d not do it again.</p>
<p>This time, she would be ready for him. “Well, wouldn’t you like to come into the light, where I can see you?” she begged, biting down on her bottom lip in a playful pout and wriggling her brows.</p>
<p>Madellaine knew what she was asking for the desolate man had to be a lot, but she steeled herself, thinking that no matter what stepped from those shadows, that she was not about to run away.</p>
<p>She simply couldn’t. Even if it weren’t for Sarousch’s stupid scheme that she wanted no part of, she wanted to know the man.</p>
<p>And to help him in any way that she could. Someone, she knew, had to make up for a life’s worth of immense hurt and pains.</p>
<p>There was a beat. A pause. The magnificent voice had turned, soft timid. It seemed to take him an eternity before he spoke. “No.” His voice was faint, almost breathless, and the timidness in the man’s tenor-like tones almost shattered her spirit.</p>
<p>Madellaine huffed in slight frustration, though stamped it back down, refusing to let him see it, wherever he was hiding from her. “Why not, monsieur? I—I don’t bite, I promise,” she joked, a nervous little chuckle escaping her lips as she swiped her blonde bangs off of her forehead and out of her eyes. “You’ve nothing to fear from me, monsieur. I’d like to know whom I’m talking to, sir.”</p>
<p>“I—I know, but I can’t! My—my face, i—is <em>monstrous</em>, it would only frighten you,” the man’s voice muttered, and there was no mistaking the hint of bitterness and self-hatred that had seeped its way unbidden to the surface. His voice was coming from the left.</p>
<p>Whirling her head around, she couldn’t be sure, though she swore she spotted a flash of green and then grey stone moving. It looked like three-stone gargoyles were smiling at her and—and… <em>Wait</em>. Madellaine froze. <em>Smiling</em>?!? Letting a terrified gasp escape past her lips before she could stop herself, she gazed fearfully at the grotesque stone figures placed in the dark shadows. They were completely still now, but…she could have sworn…</p>
<p>“The—the gargoyles!” she squeaked, clamping a hand over her mouth, and taking several faltering steps backward, eager to put as much distance between herself and the statues as possible.</p>
<p>“What about them? What’s wrong?” the man’s voice came again, this time coming from somewhere high above her head. This gave her pause at how the man could move so surprisingly fast, and even more so at the note of concern laced through the man’s voice.</p>
<p>“They were…they were <em>alive</em>,” Madellaine quickly explained, still gaping at their lifeless and unresponsive figures. Clearly, it had finally happened. She was going insane after all these years spent in Sarousch’s circus, her mind sending her insane after the abuse.</p>
<p>But…for whatever reason, she wasn’t bothered by it. By them, or by the fact that the kind young man she’d met below was in actuality, the very man she had come here to find for Sarousch.</p>
<p>“I guess…but that’s dumb isn’t it, monsieur? Do you…” she swallowed as her voice trailed off, not sure she wanted his answer. “Ugh. You must think I’m stupid, don’t you?” she said faintly.</p>
<p>“No,” he answered immediately, almost sounding offended that she would even have the audacity to speak of herself in what she imagined he believed to be odious terms. “You have an imagination. It’s…refreshing. I—I apologize for tricking you, milady. I—I don’t…get many visitors, a—and the ones I do, well…”</p>
<p>But his voice cracked as he trailed off, not completing his thought, causing Madellaine’s heart to give a painful little lurch.</p>
<p>Madellaine decided to take advantage of the momentary silence to try again to coax the lonesome man from the shadows.</p>
<p>Sensing that it was going to take him a while to warm up to her, she let out a tired sigh, deciding she might as well make herself comfortable. Spotting a wooden pillar near what looked to be a sizeable rectangular table covered by a thick green tarp, she thought that sufficient enough and, using the beam as a support brace, not caring if splinters and bits of wood cut into her back through the material of her dress, slid to the floor, sitting cross-legged. She almost—<em>almost</em>—smiled upon hearing Quasimodo’s gasp of surprise as she got herself situated, resting her hands in her lap. Madellaine knew she was just going to have to show him that she wasn’t about to leave until he came out and revealed himself.</p>
<p>The young blonde felt a genuine smile crack at the edges of her lips as she swore she heard an audible thumping sound coming from somewhere in front of her, and the unmistakable silhouette of another human being in the room with her. His shadow, she knew.</p>
<p>She was glad at least to have ignited a small spark of curiosity in the man to convince him to want to get a closer look. “Would you mind then if I sit here and talk with you? You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to, I—I won’t <em>force</em> you, monsieur, but I would very much like to look you in the eyes, sir.”</p>
<p>Madellaine fell silent and bit down on her bottom lip, wriggling her eyebrows at his shadowed silhouette in a slightly flirtatious manner, thinking if Yaga were here alongside her, Baba would be rolling her eyes at the pathetic nature of the girl’s attempts.</p>
<p>She was rewarded for her efforts a half-second later, when, with a hesitant step forward, his brown leather boot was the first thing her inquisitive blue eyes laid eyes on as his foot slipped into the light, and soon the rest of the man’s towering figure followed. The shadows in his tower fell away like water over rocks.</p>
<p>And there he stood. The bell ringer of Notre Dame.</p>
<p>Quasimodo.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My portrayal of Quasi in this fic and the other fic, God Help the Outcasts, is based on German actor/musician David Jakobs, who I've had something of a crush on ever since getting to see his performance as Quasi live on the German stage musical. There are a few clips on Youtube of his performance and I am happy to translate for those of you who don't speak German. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>6</strong> </p><p><strong>THE</strong> bell ringer was quite certain he’d never been put in a more awkward position than this, let alone had a young woman other than Esmeralda in his tower before, and as a consequence, did not know how to react to the fact that his feet were no longer taking direction from his own mind and moving of their own volition, out from the comfort of the shadows and to the light.</p><p>Where this girl, this strange material of beauty, Madellaine, would <em>see</em> him. The moment the light hit his face, she would <em>see</em>.</p><p>Just the thought was enough to make a coil in his churning stomach twist, not that he wasn’t used to his stomach coiling whenever someone out in the marketplace got a look at his face.</p><p>He was surely used to it by now, but that didn’t make the pain and sting of the looks of abject horror on their faces hurt him any less. He was vexed with the idea of having this girl see his face. He briefly felt the beginnings of tears prick at the edges of his lids, though he quickly swallowed down hard past the lump in his throat and forced himself to step forward. The girl showed no indication of leaving his tower anytime soon, having clearly been stricken with a bout of unexplainable curiosity to get a good look.</p><p>Quasi suppressed a half-choked sob as the first ray of sunlight streaming in through one of the cracks in the wooden rafters of his north tower loft fell and illuminated his slightly misshapen face. His mind felt like a terror of war and resistance.</p><p>It was surely shown by the tears welling at the edges of his lids and how ashen and pale and clammy his face had gone then.</p><p>He ducked his head in shame the moment he heard the blonde’s all-too-audible gasp of stunned surprise and horror, as he straightened his lips but kept his gaze planted firmly down.</p><p>His first step as he stared at his brown leather boots was rustic. Another, and another. He felt like horrible entertainment, like a broken bird at the mercy of a cobra, and he could feel the girl’s slitted eyes and fangs surely as she was taking him all in.</p><p>With every step forward he limped, the product of a slightly uneven gait, and he swore he heard another startled cry come from her, though if it was a cry of horror or pity, Quasi didn’t know. He knew all too well what this girl, this Madellaine, saw.</p><p>His freakishly tall height of 6’3, the small but noticeable hump that protruded near his right shoulder. It never impeded him from standing upright, though it hurt whenever he did manage it on occasion, something of a difficult feat for him. So, as a result, his posture was slightly stooped and a little lackluster.</p><p>Madellaine’s breathing shallowed, and as Quasi dared to lift his gaze, wanting to at least get a semblance of how to gauge the young woman’s reaction, he saw her lips begin to quiver.</p><p>Quasi cautiously inched another step forward and pinched his eyes shut to stem the threat of tears that threatened to escape. Though before he could take yet another step forward, Madellaine and forced out in a tiny, small-sounding voice. “<em>Stop</em>.”</p><p>He did as she asked, her command almost magnetizing him, rendering him rooted and frozen to the spot as he obeyed.</p><p>His eyes burned with shame as he stared at his boots, refusing to meet Madellaine’s gaze, but nor could he retreat back into the safety of the darkness and stop what had already happened. It was much too late to take it back. She had <em>seen</em> him. His sights remained firmly planted on the wooden floor beneath his boots, his fingernails digging firmly into his palms. He didn’t want to look into the blonde’s gaze and see his shame.</p><p>Quasi heard her hitch in another breath as he lifted his face against his better judgment, but kept his face turned to the side.</p><p>Though he didn’t see it, the way she was looking at him, the freakishly tall bell ringer could feel it. The intensity of Madellaine’s burned him, seared his insides hotter than the molten lead he used to seal up the cracks in his beloved bells.</p><p>Time seemed to come to a complete standstill how long he stood out in the open and into the sunlight like this, completely exposed and vulnerable, but it felt as though it lasted forever.</p><p>He’d not lifted his gaze from the floor and Quasi had no plans to. Madellaine had not run away from his tower yet, but he figured bitterly that it was only a matter of time. She was merely stunned, frozen in shock and fear at his monstrous appearance. It was the only thing his flustered mind could think of. The poor man was almost nearly hysterical at this point, and his fear and hot shame only worsened, causing him to almost jump out of his skin when suddenly he heard…her sweet, shy, quiet voice.</p><p>“Does it…does it <em>hurt</em> you, monsieur?” Her innocent yet fearful question drifted through the air like a soft lullaby.</p><p>As his mind processed her question, Quasimodo couldn’t help but bring his eyes up to meet hers. There was fear in Madellaine’s bright blue eyes as he’d expected and anticipated.</p><p>But there was also something <em>else</em> within her twinkling blue eyes. Something he didn’t recognize but began to shiver for, but he knew it quite well. Esmeralda would get the same look this Madellaine was getting whenever she would look at Phoebus, though the meaning behind the intensity of it, he didn’t know.</p><p>Making a mental note to ask Esmeralda later, he shoved aside the thought for now and continued bravely to meet her gaze.</p><p>He felt so utterly confused. What did she mean, ‘did it hurt him?’ Did it hurt him to be cursed with a visage and body this hideous, this ugly that he made grown women weep and children scream? Madellaine must have sensed his growing confusion, for she swallowed down hard and spoke, gesturing to his face.</p><p>“Forgive me. I—I mean your…your… well….” she stammered, a fiery heat scorching her heat as she gestured to him.</p><p>A light seemed to ignite behind the bell ringer’s eyes. Ah! <em>That</em>. Yes, it did hurt him. But only sometimes, and right now was no exception to this rule. “N—no,” he began hesitantly, not sure where his ability to speak was coming from, considering how dry his throat suddenly felt and how his tongue felt thick in his mouth. </p><p>His eyes immediately dropped back to the floor and he ducked his head, allowing a lock of his coarse, fiery ginger hair to fall in front of his one good eye, shielding whatever expression Madellaine wore away from him. He didn’t think he could stand it, to bear to look into the pretty girl’s bright blue eyes and see the shame coupled with the fear, the horror, and unbridled pity.</p><p>Though much to his surprise and astonishment, he felt a cold, yet unbelievable soft hand gingerly touch his cheek and tilt his face back up, with Madellaine forcing Quasi to look at her. Her sky-blue eyes were still wide, though he could detect no hint of fear as they raked over the details of his face, her eyes, at last, looking on his. “No, monsieur,” she said with a tiny smile that tugged at her lips, and she made no move to let go of his chin, nor step back away from his towering form in disgust.</p><p>Quasi blinked, giving a start at her words. It felt indescribable, this feeling of a foreign emotion that washed over his giant form and broad chest. She…she saw him, this blonde.</p><p>Madellaine wasn’t running. She was <em>here</em>, right here in front of him, looking at him without a trace of fright or disgust.</p><p>Slightly hunchbacked. Freakishly tall. His fiery mop of red hair that most people took to mean as the sign of the devil’s child.</p><p>To her, it didn’t look as though any of this mattered at all. He was stricken with an inexplicable feeling of warmth, though the warmth that made him apathetic to the hurt that had been bothering him lately, his nightmares, dreams still of his old master, immediately fled him the moment Madellaine pulled her hand away. Quasi fought against the wild urge to throw a sudden temper tantrum as her hand left his face, clenching his teeth and fighting his almost desperate need to suddenly catch her hand as she started to retreat back into herself, grasp it in his own gloved hand and kiss her knuckles in gratitude. But Quasi refrained.</p><p>In a moment of stunned disbelief, he lowered himself to his knees the moment he felt the strength in his legs start to give out and rectified the problem before his knees gave out. The heavy burden was lifted from his heart and the weight of the emotions and indescribable feelings in his mind were too much to process.</p><p>Too much, it was all too much. The pressure of his shame at what he was left his broad, muscular chest and he felt an immense tidal wave of relief wash all his burning doubt away.</p><p>Madellaine blinked owlishly at the gentle giant now on his knees in front of her. It took most of her willpower not to retreat several paces when the man suddenly fell to his knees in relief.</p><p>It had been rather unexpected and if she was being honest with herself, she felt quite a bit on edge and not sure how to react.</p><p>Everything made sense now. The man’s shyness, his reluctance to not leave the shadows. Why he’d not wanted her to get a good look at him. Her heartstrings pricked as she was suddenly filled with images of what the other people in Sarousch’s troupe would do to this man if Sarousch were to capture the man.</p><p>She pursed her lips into a thin line, hoping the bell ringer didn’t get the wrong impression of the expression she was sure was evident on her face. She knew from the moment he fell into the light and then fell to his knees, she could not—would not—hurt this man, nor would she have any further part in Sarousch’s stupid scheme. No. Her master was just going to have to get someone else to do. Use Baba if he wanted, but she was <em>done</em>.</p><p>Madellaine’s gaze never wavered from the man’s now kneeling form in front of her. While yes, it was true, the first few moments of her laying eyes on this gentle giant, the sole bell ringer of Notre Dame, had been something of a shock, she was sad to say that she herself was admittedly no stranger to ugliness.</p><p>She furrowed her thin eyebrows into a frown as she thought the pair of conjoined twins who had…<em>intentions</em>, toward her, to put it politely, were a far sight more hideous than this man. In fact, as Madellaine gingerly took a half-step closer, if she focused hard enough, he was actually quite a handsome man in her eyes.</p><p>The contusion over his left browbone that sat slightly swollen did give his features something of a lopsided look, yes, though there were no disguising the man’s sharp, chiseled features, his strong jawline and cheekbones that were almost assuredly Roman, she was sure of it, yes, she was <em>sure</em>.</p><p>His complexion was pale, suggesting he spent little time out in the sunlight of the outside world, preferring to remain cooped up here in his tower. His mop of fiery red hair was cut short and stuck up in wild tufts every which way, seeming to have a mind of its own no matter what the man did to try to tame it. She almost chuckled. She could relate. Her own hair was the same way sometimes, especially in the mornings.</p><p>It took her using water and her fingers or a comb to get her short blonde hair to lay flat. Even kneeling on his knees like this, which had to be murder on the poor man’s knees, he towered over Madellaine at 6’3. He was probably taller than most of the menfolk in Paris.</p><p><em>Definitely taller than Sarousch</em>, she thought for a moment. <em>And much stronger too,</em> she added almost as an afterthought as her eyes raked over the bell ringers’ tall and broad form. He was obviously quite muscular underneath his long-sleeved linen undershirt and thick green woolen tunic he wore over top of that.</p><p>For a moment, a wildly inappropriate thought flitted across the young blonde circus performer’s mind as her eyes lingered on his chest. She wondered what it felt like to have his strong arms wrapped in a hug, and she remembered where she was, a light pink blush speckling to her cheeks, flushing them high with color.</p><p>She inwardly cursed herself for thinking such a thought and begged God for His forgiveness for having an almost lustful imagining of the man kneeling in front of her in submission, then.</p><p>Madellaine continued to get a good look at this infamous man who’d saved the city of Paris from burning and an entire race of people if indeed the stories and tales from the tavern were true. She quickly decided that, in addition to the strong features of his almost perfectly chiseled face, his eyes were his best feature.</p><p>A bright sparkling blue, much like her own, teeming with life and curiosity, the color of the ocean after a violent tempest, stirred up and wild and reckless, yet vibrant and shimmering as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds after this tempest.</p><p>And yet they held so much fear, so much pain, that the young blonde circus performer could hardly bear to see such emotions laced throughout the young man’s eyes. Madellaine had never quite seen anything like it before, not even in her own eyes.</p><p>She figured she had much to complain about, living with a man like Sarousch, who ensured she stopped being a child when she was nine. <em>He’d made sure of that</em>. Madellaine shuddered, gritting her teeth, and biting back the swell of horrid memories.</p><p>Quasimodo held her gaze only for a moment, but it was just long enough for a connection to form. A connection she felt as though she had been waiting to form with a man for a while now. Was she scared of him? Absolutely not. Had she been alarmed the moment he’d chosen to step from the shadows? Yes.</p><p>But did how he look make her think any less of him? No.  Only a sense of horrible, overwhelming pity that physically caused her heart to ache and her chest to constrict and tighten, coupled with a desire to ease the pain that was on his face that she suspected had been there for the entirety of the man's life, and it hurt her to think of him suffering like this.</p><p>Touching his chin had not been as difficult as she thought it would, considering his shy and skittish nature, how he’d almost looked ready to rabbit back into the safety of the shadows, his safe space, his sanctuary, she guessed. But his eyes and facial expressions were striking, almost handsome, and…and…<em>human</em>.</p><p>It practically broke Madellaine’s heart to see him on his knees in front of her now. This wasn’t at all right. He was not meant to be submissive to her. If anything, she was the slave here.</p><p>Not him. Never him. He should if anything, be standing upright alongside her as an equal, both of them outcasts. Discarded, unwanted, though here they were under the same roof.</p><p><em>Together</em>. At the top of the world. The thought plastered as a quiet vibration under Madellaine’s skin and it made it crawl at the thought of being so high up, if they were to go out onto the balcony and peer over the balustrade, she might very well get sick.</p><p>She turned her attentions back to Quasimodo, who remained still and almost lifeless as a marble statue. She frowned.</p><p>Madellaine knew she was not about to let a petty thing like his appearance get in the way of the appreciation she still felt towards his kindness of her, how he’d treated her in their brief and in her mind, entirely too short interactions thus far in their newfound acquaintance. The friendship she knew she wanted with the man, whether he would have someone like her or not.</p><p>Steeling herself, before she could lose her nerve and resolve, Madellaine knelt into a crouch on the floor and rested her hand over the top of his strong forearm, feeling his powerful muscles.</p><p>Madellaine was not expecting the man to flinch and almost violently shirk away from her touch and she almost pulled her hand guiltily back, not sure at all what she had been expecting. She was quick to rationalize that Quasimodo was a man who was simply not used to being touched, let alone by a girl.</p><p>“Hey,” she whispered, her voice softer than silk as it flowed through his drafty tower loft like a gentle breeze. “It’s all right, my friend. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I will not hurt you, sir.”</p><p>After giving the bell ringer a few seconds to get his act together and compose himself, Madellaine tugged on his arm in an effort to pull the tall man to his feet again. She wanted to see more of those eyes and she sincerely hoped he could summon his inner courage and find it within himself to meet her gaze again.</p><p>For she’d never seen such a pure, crystalline icy-blue before. The man in front of her obeyed without even thinking of it, clumsily rising to a standing position, balling his hands into fists.</p><p>Still, he refused to meet her gaze. Madellaine resisted the urge to stomp her foot in frustration and lose her temper, though she was rapidly losing patience. This was going to have to change.</p><p>“Quasimodo… will you <em>please</em> look at me?” she begged softly, trying to coax the red-haired bell ringer into feeling more at ease in her presence.</p><p>Tough as it was for him, she could also recognize that this was probably a huge change for him, and it would take a while for him to adjust and process the simple truth that Madellaine meant what she said: that she wouldn’t hurt him.</p><p>Very cautiously and slowly, Quasimodo raised his eyes to hers and this time, he held her gaze, unable to look away even if he wanted to, and he found that he did not want to at the moment. He liked looking at the young blonde. The glimpses of the blonde who’d come up to his tower that he’d stolen were…really something.</p><p>Madellaine, this girl, she…was <em>gorgeous</em>. If he looked just right, the golden rays of the sun caught her short blonde hair just right, and he swore he could see hints of butterscotch and caramel in her hair that gave her some warmth. It was almost…angelic looking in a way, the faint hues of the sun that surrounded the blonde’s head, almost like a halo.</p><p>He <em>itched</em> to say something to her, anything at all, though it felt as though there was a gag on his mouth, his lips were numb, and his tongue felt thick in his mouth. For a moment, Quasi quite forgot how his words worked and how to even speak to her at all.</p><p>She was not the only one who had been shocked, though he was relieved to see, at a minimum, Madellaine continued to smile at him in support and held out her hand, waiting for him to take it. “It’s nice to finally meet you, monsieur,” she said in a quiet voice. “I hope that you and I can become friends, in time, yes?”</p><p>Quasi moved slowly as if he were afraid that she would dematerialize right in front of his eyes and vanish, he reached out and took her hand. The moment his hand made contact with hers, he felt it. A tiny golden thread that connected the two of them.</p><p>Though her skin was cold to the touch, it felt as though a sudden wave of heat spiraled up his arm at a rapidly alarming pace and struck his heart, sending it throbbing and pounding relentlessly against its cage of bone and cartilage, just as it had earlier when he’d accidentally run into her down below a bit ago.</p><p>Esmeralda had told him of this feeling, that he would form a connection with a woman when he was ready. So had Phoebus. It was strange that he should feel it now, at the age of twenty-two, with this young blonde, this Madellaine, whom he barely knew.</p><p>Quasi drew in a sharp breath that pained his lungs. He wondered if Madellaine had felt it too, what he’d just experienced.</p><p>One quick look over at her face told him that she hadn’t, though that was all right. It was more than enough for him that she was standing here alongside him, not afraid to look at him. That she was…oh, God, that she was <em>holding</em> his <em>hand</em> and did not seem to have any intentions of letting go anytime soon.</p><p>Feeling as though it would be wrong and highly uncouth to touch her for too long, Quasi reluctantly relinquished the hold his gloved hand had on her so incredibly soft, smooth hand and let his arms rest at his sides again, suddenly feeling warm.</p><p>“Y—you’re not afraid of me?” he was finally able to ask her.</p><p>Madellaine shook her head vehemently. “Afraid of <em>what</em>, monsieur? You will not hurt me,” she murmured lowly with the slightest hint of a teasing lilt to her soft voice as she laughed.</p><p>Quasi did not bother to tamper down the shy smile that graced his features, revealing a set of white teeth that for some strange reason, caused Madellaine’s heart to give a flutter. She had made it obvious his appearance did not matter to her, though he couldn’t guess for the life of him how that was.</p><p>The people of Paris were blind and bloody fools and oh-so-stupid in her mind if they all thought the man standing before her was a monster, a demon. Simpleminded smallfolk. Quasimodo was far too kind to be labeled a monster, and in her eyes, quite handsome, once you could look past the contusion and the slight hump on his back near his shoulder, as she was able. She saw just his face, his eyes. Just him. Nothing else.</p><p>It pained her heart that others in this city would never know how kind and gentle the man in front of her was, that they didn’t even want to give him a chance to prove it, but it would make sense why they would be fearful of him. Considering he never wanted to leave the tower, it was more than enough cause for gossip and the rumor mill to circulate, spreading vicious lies of slander against the church’s bell ringer.</p><p>Madellaine let out a tiny sigh. “It seems <em>rude</em>, doesn’t it, if I were to be afraid of my own new friend, doesn’t it, Quasimodo?” Madellaine teased once again, trying to make the situation lighter.</p><p>Quasimodo chuckled softly at this, finding it difficult not to roll his eyes a bit, not that he found it funny, per see, but more so due to the fact that he was filled to the brim with an unbelievable relief and happiness that perhaps he had just made another true friend, aside from Phoebus and Esmeralda, who God bless their souls, loved him, and cherished him in their own way, their visits were less and less these days, though he couldn’t blame them for that. The two, from what Esmeralda had told him, were trying for a family.</p><p><em>A baby</em>. His eyes almost widened at that little revelation, that thought, though he quickly gave his head a curt shake to rid his mind of thoughts of that for now. Right now, he wanted to focus on the here and now, which meant, focus on Madellaine.</p><p>“A—are we <em>friends</em> now?” he questioned, unable to keep the note of hope from surfacing its way unbidden to the surface of his voice, smiling a little at Madellaine’s nonplussed expression, though he thought she looked rather offended that he had to ask.</p><p>She nodded eagerly and inclined her hand and folded her hands in front of her middle. “Yes. If you will have me, monsieur.”</p><p><em>Monsieur</em>. He almost startled at that and lost his footing. No one had ever dared to treat him with a modicum of respect.</p><p>But not this girl, this beautiful young woman who seemed unfailingly kind and pretty and flawless in her bone structure and—and—<em>No</em>! Quasi’s eyes widened as he realized what he was doing to himself and gave his head a curt shake to rid himself of such inappropriate thoughts. He could not—<em>would</em> not—think of her in those terms, in <em>that</em> way.</p><p>Master Frollo had warned him of the dangers of women, of the lustful thoughts they inspired. It was inappropriate, considering the two had only just met, and a beautiful woman like Madellaine would never want to be with an accursed, monstrous wretch like him… <em>would</em> she?!?</p><p>He almost growled in frustration trying to rid his mind of these conflicting notions whirling around in his frazzled mind.</p><p>“Please, I…call me Quasi. My—my friends do,” he whispered softly in a hoarse voice, though his sudden onset of nervousness and trepidation felt like it vanished when she smiled and nodded her agreement, before shyly looking away a second.</p><p>Quasi let out a tired sigh and raked his gloved fingers through his fiery mop of hair and nervously met the blonde’s gaze.</p><p>Seeing her here in front of him made everything else going wrong in his life not matter as much anymore. His fears of her seeing him were now unfounded. His worry of hurting anyone who came up to his tower. It was all gone. In its place, was hope.</p><p>He paused, considering this. He…he wanted to do something for Madellaine. Anything to show his appreciation.</p><p>He glanced past her and towards the opening in the tower on the upper level of the mezzanine, several dozens of bells hung above their heads, their ropes dangling above like snakes on a branch. The bells. He remembered her saying she loved the bells.</p><p>An idea hit him as he slowly swiveled his head to meet her gaze. “Y—you said you wanted to see the bells. W—would you like me to show them to you? I—I’d be happy to introduce you…”</p><p>Madellaine’s bright, sky-blue eyes lit up at his kind offer and she grinned at him in excitement, causing the warm feeling in his chest to spread like wildfire, up to the roots of his hair and all the way down to his toes nestled comfortably in his leather boots.</p><p>“I’d really like that,” she said softly, watching Quasimodo’s own eyes light up and shimmer again with a new sense of intrigue.</p><p>He didn’t say anything as he silently offered her his arm. Madellaine hesitated to take it, hoping he would be okay with her touching him, but only for a fraction of a second as she looped her arm around his and allowed the bell ringer to lead the way, occasionally stealing an odd glance at the blonde woman out of the corner of his vision and trying to ignore the heat in his limbs.</p><p>It was…unimaginable, what he was feeling, how his body was strangely reacting. He’d never felt anything like it before.</p><p>So fixated on stealing a glimpse of Madellaine was Quasi that he failed to hear her soft voice take on a note of concern and he didn’t even notice when his head connected sharply with one of the wooden beams, sending his head reeling, his temples throbbing as he staggered backward, resting the urge to swear in pain and embarrassment as a fiery blush at how he’d made a fool of himself just now in front of a beautiful woman crept to his pale cheeks.</p><p>Though to his relief, he felt the soft but firm grip of Madellaine’s hand on his arm as he brought his hands up to his nose, praying to God he’d not accidentally broken his nose just now. “A—are you all right?” she asked, causing him to lower his hands from his face the moment he heard her concerned voice.</p><p>“Fine,” he managed to gasp out in a hoarse, raspy voice, though not before shooting the wooden beam he’d walked into a withering glower that would have had the power to wilt a fully-bloomed rose. “I—I’m sorry. I—I wasn’t watching at all where I was going, Madellaine. D—did you still want to see the bells?”</p><p>She chuckled softly and gripped his hand in hers, giving it a light but reassuring squeeze, and all of a sudden, his ticket to heaven was back the moment he felt the searing warmth again.</p><p>“I do,” she reassured him in what she hoped was a comforting voice. “I’d like that. More than anything, Quasi.”</p><p>She turned her gaze back towards the wooden support beam he’d more or less smacked headfirst in front of him and let out a sigh, shaking her head at his dazed demeanor, just feeling relieved that he wasn’t hurt.</p><p>“Whatever on earth am I going to do with you? If you keep that up, you’ll be as clumsy as I am,” she joked, flashing that bright white smile he wanted more of, that he wished he could bottle it in a tiny glass vial and keep close to his chest.</p><p>He gave his head a curt shake to clear his mind and grumbled under his breath, tearing his gaze away from the young blonde as he led her towards the ladder that led to the upper mezzanine where his bells, his children, his beauties were kept, waiting to be rung. The thought flitted through his mind before he could stop himself.</p><p>
  <em>Love me, marry me.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
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    <p>
  <strong>7</strong>
</p><p><strong>MADELLAINE</strong> drew in a sharp breath as she tried to take in the beauty of the dozens of countless huge brass bells above her head.</p><p>“I never knew there were so many,” she breathed, marveling at just how many actually hung above her head and trying to count them all, trying on purpose not to pay attention to how embarrassed her new friend still seemed to be and recovering from her initial shock that he had walked into that wooden beam.</p><p>She sincerely hoped the bell ringer hadn’t broken his nose or injured himself in some other way, though he seemed fine, and it was only when he noticed her looking and shot her a shy little awkward half-smile that Madellaine felt the tension in her shoulders dissipate and she allowed herself to relax a little bit.</p><p>Madellaine was amazed by the various bells’ vastness and just how many of them there were. She made a mental note in her mind to ask Quasimodo about them later if there was time.</p><p>The sight of a long wooden ladder that appeared to lead up to a rectangular opening in the wooden light from where sunlight from the outside pooled in came into the blonde’s line of sight. Madellaine’s blue eyes sparkled in excitement and intrigue as she thought of what could possibly be up on that mezzanine.</p><p>Quasi didn’t say a word as he climbed the rungs of the ladder with relative ease, his legs allowing him to take them two at a time, and Madellaine quickly learned she was to follow. When he reached the top, he allowed himself a few seconds to get himself under control and get a grip on his reeling emotions and throbbing head, as he turned on the heels of his boots and knelt slightly, holding out his gloved hand to help her the rest of the way up as Madellaine gathered the skirts of her dress in her hands and had started to climb.</p><p>Though she paused, faltering in the decision the moment she saw her new friend’s outstretched hand. Smiling at the gesture of kindness, she took his hand, noticing the small gasp he gave out the moment her hand slid into his with relative ease and allowed him to help her up to the top of the old landing.</p><p>She briefly wondered if she could stroke his thumb, what his reaction would be, though quickly shoved aside the thought. She barely <em>knew</em> him yet, and she figured such a gesture would be perceived as moving entirely too fast and was sure to send his mind insane with worry at what she was trying to do.</p><p>His hand was rough and calloused, even underneath his leather rawhide gloves, she could feel it, his touch was warm, and his embrace gentle as he carefully held onto Madellaine’s hand. Even as she hauled herself over the final rung with a grunt escaping her lips, she didn’t relinquish her grip on the man’s hand, for whatever reason that was, she couldn’t fathom it at all.</p><p>She wasn’t sure, but Madellaine did know she liked the feel of his hand in hers. Quasi seemed to like it too, for the gentle giant made no effort to shrug out of her hand, for which Madellaine was secretly pleased. He looked over his unimpeded shoulder as he turned back to her, thinking it amazing he had a woman in his tower.</p><p>Someone other than Esmeralda, and one besides who was interested in the bells that he rang and wanted to see them.</p><p>“Can you trust me?” Quasi asked softly, holding the young blonde’s gaze for as long as was humanly possible, though it made him feel uncomfortable, for reasons he couldn’t explain, nor could he explain away the feeling of peace that began to wallow in his tormented soul the longer he held onto Madellaine’s soft hand.</p><p>She nodded slowly. “Yes. I do. With my life, Quasi,” she whispered, before immediately cringing and realizing how it must sound as she heard the man let out an audible gasp of shock and surprise at her confession.</p><p><em>Oh, dear</em>! She hadn’t meant to voice that out loud! <em>Great</em>, Madellaine thought bitterly, squeezing her eyes shut and ducking her head, moving to turn away. <em>Now he’ll pull away, and Sarousch and old Baba will be livid when I tell them he’s not coming down from here because I scared him off.</em></p><p>Quasi blinked, feeling almost quite certain he’d misheard his new friend, trying his hardest not to let his body tremble at all. He exhaled slowly and steadily through his nose.</p><p>“Then…close your eyes,” he whispered in a low and slightly husky tone, heavy with desire to make his new friend happy with what he was about to show her. Madellaine quirked a brow his way and gave him a rather adorable, curious look as she bit down on her bottom lip in excited anticipation and wriggled her eyebrows.</p><p>Nevertheless, Quasi had given Madellaine no reason for her not to trust him thus far, and it was this thought that compelled her to do as he asked, gently closing her eyes, and applying even more pressure on his hand intertwined with hers, seeing as how she was relying on his eyes to be her guide for sight.</p><p>Now that she was more or less blinded and temporarily robbed of her sight, this allowed her other senses to become heightened, such as her smell and sense of hearing. The bell ringer smelled of something suspiciously like bell polish and parchment paper and…<em>autumn</em>, as the truly delish scent of pinewood trees flooded her nostrils.</p><p>Why it was, she didn’t know.  Madellaine let out a light little grunt as she allowed Quasimodo to gently pull her out into the open, exposed air of wherever it was that the bell ringer happened to be taking her.</p><p>She let out a barely audible gasp as she swore she could suddenly feel everything, the wind as it kissed her cheeks, pinking them and tousling her short blonde hair off of her forehead now. The girl could feel the air around them had the faint chill of the approaching autumn in another few months, though before that happened, a scorching summer was sure to follow.</p><p>She could feel the last rays of the sun as it ducked behind a cloud, sure to promise a rainstorm; she could smell it in her nose. And, more importantly, she could feel Quasi’s gentle hand guiding her along what felt like a stone path, a bridge of sorts. Madellaine could hear the wind rustling through the bell tower, creating a faint whistling sound, slightly eerie.</p><p>She supposed it might have sounded haunting to the ordinary person, but then again, she was no ordinary person. She heard her heart pounding against her chest, the blood rushing to her ears until it was almost frighteningly deafening. Quasi continued to pull her gently along the walkway until they abruptly stopped, and if he hadn’t flung out an arm in front of him to catch her from stumbling, she surely would have fallen.</p><p>“We made it. Are you ready?” he asked faintly. Madellaine nodded, a slight smile tugging at the edges of her pink, full lips.</p><p>“Open your eyes, then,” he said, rather reluctantly relinquishing his grip on the young blonde’s hand, though Quasi wanted nothing more than to continue holding it, however, it would be wildly inappropriate unless she consented to it first.</p><p>Madellaine did not do immediately as Quasimodo told her, wanting to savor the moment of anticipation of what could possibly be in front of them before once again doing what he said. Her eyelids fluttered open and what she saw…for a strikingly fleeting moment at least, caused her to lose her breath.</p><p>The city below was breathtaking and seemed so small up here at the top of the world, as the two of them rested their elbows against the balustrade of the balcony and stared in awe at the city. It seemed as though the Parisians went about their lives with no concern or care as to what the world might look like from up here. Madellaine figured the king of France, old Louis the Prudent, didn’t even have a view quite as spectacular as he did.</p><p>Her natural curiosity getting the better of her, Madellaine dared to steal a glance at her new friend out of the corner of her peripherals, finding it strangely peaceful and pleasing to her that the twenty-two-year-old man had a strangely serene and content smile on his face as he kept his gaze fixated on the city of Paris.</p><p>Madellaine decided she rather liked the way the rays of light from the fading sun as the sun ducked behind storm clouds hit his vibrant, ginger hair, making it appear as if strands of his hair were on fire. As if he had been kissed by fire….it was hard for the young blonde circus performer to stop looking at him.</p><p>She wanted to commit every detail of his face to her memory, for reasons that she could not even begin to explain. In truth, Madellaine found the bell ringer of Notre Dame to be a gentle giant, and a handsome man, if only he could see it for himself if he could learn to look past the strange contusion over his browbone and the small hump on his back near his shoulder.</p><p>Suddenly, before she could look away and attempt to cover up the fact that she had been staring at the man for perhaps longer than was appropriate, he turned his head in her direction and Madellaine actively averted her gaze towards the breathtaking view in front of them—not wanting to make the man uncomfortable with her yet again inappropriate gawking of him.</p><p>As it was, Madellaine failed to notice the soft smile that stretched across the shadow of his handsome, angular face as he looked at her, not saying a word.</p><p>Quasi found he didn’t need to. The two of them stood like this in silence for only God and His angels knew how long, and it was only when the sun began to dip below the horizon and the first set of stars started to appear in the sky that Madellaine finally turned to look at him and spoke.</p><p>“This is…beautiful up here. It—it seems like a wonderful place to live, my friend,” she whispered, her voice still breathy with awe even after all this time here that still hadn’t worn off.</p><p>“Yes. But in winter…very cold,” he murmured, his eyes growing soft and sparking with something as he felt a surge of energy course through his veins as he rose from his spot and hopped up onto the balustrade of the balcony, close to the edge. “It’s my favorite spot in the cathedral, this very spot. And…” he paused, not bothering to complete his thought as his voice trailed off as he looked at her, though he wondered if she caught it at all.</p><p>The unspoken words that he dared not say to Madellaine.</p><p>“I can see <em>why</em>. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in my entire life,” Madellaine murmured dreamily, propping her elbows up on the ledge and resting her face in her hands, looking up at the night skies, not wanting to go back down.</p><p><em>Oh, I have</em>, Quasi thought affectionately to himself as he gazed, pleased, at how the young blonde woman standing almost so close to him their shoulders touched, closed her eyes and allowed the wind to caress her face and tousle her short blonde hair. He startled a bit when Madellaine opened her eyes and looked at him, her lips parting in shock as she realized just how close to the ledge Quasi was sitting, and her eyes widened in awe.</p><p>“Y—you don’t fear to fall? Be careful,” she warned, her eyebrows raised in his direction in utter confusion and alarm.</p><p>Quasi returned her confused look. He had no idea what she could possibly be referring to until he looked over his shoulder and at how far the drop was. He realized the blonde was unaware of just how well he was able to maneuver around the great cathedral.</p><p>His bright blue eyes lit up with a sense of mischievousness as he realized he could tease Madellaine a little bit. Have some fun with her. He had no idea what was causing him to feel this way, perhaps it was reveling in the joy of the realization that for once in his life, a young woman sought him out, wanting to be friends.</p><p>And the knowledge that he had a new friend besides Phoebus and Esmeralda to occasionally tease.</p><p>“Careful of what?” Quasi murmured in a low voice before letting himself fall backward off the ledge, loosening his muscles and bracing for the fall, and just as his body started to tilt forward and lean, his strong, gloved hand wound itself of the gargoyle’s head not too far below him.</p><p>The startled scream erupted from Madellaine’s lips before she could stop herself, rushing forward with her arm outstretched in order to help him, if the poor man were even still alive after that. Her beautiful face peeked over the ledge, peering down at him hanging there, as he chuckled softly to himself, hoisting himself back up over the ledge, only turning to face Madellaine when he was back on solid ground with a playful smirk forming.</p><p>Madellaine, however, did not look at all as pleased and amused as he did. A hand was over her racing heart, clutching fistfuls of her dress in agitation, her lips pursed into a thin line, and her pale features had whitened a shade further, turning an interesting shade of green. His smile faltered as he thought for a brief moment, the poor thing was sure to be violently sick all over the balcony terrace floor, and it was going to be all his fault then.</p><p>“<em>Y—you scared me</em>!” Madellaine shouted, swatting at his shoulder gently, her little hand balled into a fist.</p><p>Quasi felt a sudden rush of guilt engulf him, rendering him feeling like he’d been doused in a bucket of ice-cold water…though, there was admittedly a part of him that was unable to deny just how funny it was. And rather touching, too. It was nice to know how this young woman seemed to care for him, and not having known him that long.</p><p>“I—I’m sorry,” he apologized, a pained look flitting across his features as he inclined his head in submission and an apology.</p><p>Madellaine swallowed down hard until the worst of the bile rising up in the back of her throat had passed, and she reached out to pat his arm, not wanting to cause the man to feel any guilt.</p><p>“I—it’s all right, Quasi…I…I just didn’t e—expect it,” she murmured, her tone much softer this time and much more subdued now that she had stopped to think about what happened. She should have known that he could go anywhere he wanted in this massive cathedral, and that he surely learned to climb and scale the various walls and parapets at a young age if his master never allowed him to leave. It seemed only natural, yes.</p><p>He did not know how much time had passed in silence as the two stood there, though it was only when a cloud hid the moon that Madellaine emitted the tiniest of groans from her lips and turned on her heels to leave, though not before turning back towards Quasi and shooting him a kind, but shy white smile.</p><p>“I—it’s late, a—and I need to go. My…<em>master</em> will be furious if I’m late,” Madellaine growled darkly, itching to stay up here more and talk with Notre Dame’s bell ringer a little while longer, though she knew Sarousch would be expecting an update from her, and old Baba Yaga was sure to give her seven shades of holy hell for how undoubtedly late she already was at returning back.</p><p>He nodded, though he was sure the disappointment was etched on his face finer than an inscription of a deceased’s person’s name on a tombstone as his face became crestfallen.</p><p>Quasi didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, though he knew such a dream was fruitless. He bit the wall of his cheek as he realized that Madellaine had a look like she was patiently waiting for him to say something to her, to bid her adieu.</p><p>But God, he did not <em>want</em> to. He almost threw a temper tantrum at the thought of this kind, young woman leaving him. A thought occurred to him. <em>Could I see this girl again</em>?</p><p>It was a wild, radical idea, one Quasi wasn’t sure she’d go for, but… there was a chance. But did he dare take it?</p><p>He decided that yes, he should take the shot, she was looking at him in a way that suggested she was still waiting for him to speak to her. Before he could lose his nerve and his resolve, he swallowed down hard past the growing lump in his throat and forced himself to speak the words he couldn’t believe he was asking.</p><p>“I…” he stammered, blowing out a deep breath as he tried again, surprised he could even formulate his words at all with how heavy his tongue felt in his mouth. “Will I see you again, milady?” Quasi cringed, chewing on the wall of his mouth, wondering if this could get any more awkward than this already was for him.</p><p>He doubted Phoebus had this much trouble in the early days when he had been courting Esmeralda prior to their marriage. Where…where <em>had</em> that come? Even his voice didn’t sound like himself at all. His tone was lower, slightly huskier, sort of. The same tone that Phoebus used when he was around Esmeralda.</p><p>Madellaine blinked, startled by his question, a strange, blank, and impassive expression on her beautiful face. Quasi inwardly cringed, mentally cursing himself for overstepping his boundaries, thinking that now he’d really messed things up for himself. And the day had been going so well too, he thought sadly.</p><p>Though it wasn’t what the young blonde circus performer said, necessarily. It was what she <em>did</em>. She offered him a bright white smile and nodded eagerly, her smile sending his heart in its cage of bone and cartilage pounding against his chest, beating so erratically and loud, he was surprised Madellaine couldn’t hear it.</p><p>“I’d like that,” Madellaine murmured softly, reaching up a hand to tuck a wisp of her short blonde hair back behind her ear. “May I join you for breakfast? I’ll even bring the food,” she joked.</p><p>Quasi nodded, the realization dawning that Madellaine wanted to see him again turning his face to sunshine, a bright, golden smile, though as his gaze lingered, the bell ringer’s smile shifted; no longer one of a bright sunrise this time, but a pleasant sunset as it softened, his bright blue eyes sparkling with tenderness and the beginning flickering of emotion he didn’t think he could describe even if his life bloody depended on it.</p><p>His lips curled into a soft grin that warmed Madellaine’s cheeks and made her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.</p><p>“I’d like that. More than…more than you know.”</p><p>As Madellaine turned on her heels, still smiling to herself, and made her way through the man’s tower loft and towards the same stairwell that she had climbed up with him earlier, she paused when she heard his voice once more, closing her eyes and relishing in the rich, smooth, melodious tones of the man’s amazing tenor voice.</p><p>She pressed her cheek into her palm, an affectionate smile snaking its way onto her slender face. As Madellaine risked one last glance back over her shoulder, she couldn’t be sure, but even as Quasimodo turned away from her, the young circus performer was positive he looked back at her.</p><p>His voice as he spoke to her was smooth, like melted butter, sending her heart fluttering as she opened the door that led out to the stone stairwell and his voice followed her down the stairs as she descended the stairs to head back to Sarousch’s camp.</p><p>“Goodnight, Madellaine.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>8</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>STRANGE</strong>. Odd. Strange and odd. Those were the only two words the young blonde could use to describe the turn of events her little mission to the cathedral had taken. She continued to wring her hands together in a sense of nervous anticipation as she began the slow and daunting walk back to Sarousch’s stupid campsite, not wanting to give the ringmaster an update on her progress. Madellaine reached up a hand to tuck a wisp of her blonde hair back behind her ear as she thought of it.</p>
<p>The day had been <em>so</em>…so…well…she was having trouble finding a word that fits how she could describe it.</p>
<p>Though not that anyone back at camp, save for Yaga, would ask her about. Sarousch made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care about what she did as long as it benefitted him, in the end. Though her day had been odd, what was even stranger, Madellaine mused, was that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The sun had set beyond the horizon and the trees in front of her took on a darker tone. The air was growing colder, causing the young woman to shiver and clutch herself as it was growing fairly cold, and she’d not thought to bring a shawl or a cloak for warmth, not having anticipated she would be gone for the entirety of the day as she had.</p>
<p>The man’s cautious eyes from before now flooded and permeated her thoughts. Her breaths stifled and caught in her throat as she thought of the kind bell ringer unexpectedly as she allowed her thoughts to wander. “Quasimodo…” she whispered, the man’s name leaving her lips without any semblance of hesitation on her part.</p>
<p>The man up in the bell tower of Notre Dame was honestly, she could say with every ounce of certainty within her, was the strangest but sweetest man she thought she had ever had the pleasure to meet. The bell ringer was pleased with a certain tender aura that had surrounded him throughout the entirety of their interaction, almost as if the man had never been exposed to the evils of the dark, cruel world, or if he had, he was relatively well-adapted and quite good at hiding it, then.</p>
<p>She had no idea that when Sarousch had announced to the rest of the troupe that they were going home to Paris that the bell ringer was the <em>real</em> reason why. Even so, despite the imminent threat of her master’s plan looming over her, she could not manage to get herself to stop thinking about her new friend’s eyes.</p>
<p>Such a crystalline, pure, brilliant blue. Round and brimming with wonder and awe as he had looked at her, as though he were a blind man seeing stars for the first time. As shocking as the man’s initial first appearance was, she could tell upon their first interaction with one another that Quasimodo was a gentle giant and soul, and that he harbored no ill intent towards her or anyone.</p>
<p>He really wasn’t the ‘<em>monster’</em> that Parisians made the poor fellow out to be, and yet, there was an uneasy feeling churning in the pit of her swooping stomach that still harbored getting entirely too close to the man.</p>
<p>Madellaine despised the feeling, not knowing if it stemmed from the terrible stories that she’d heard of the church’s bell ringer, or if it was her deep-rooted uncomfortableness at how Sarousch was forcing her hand in his stupid scheme to lure the bell ringer out of his safe sanctuary, to get Quasi to come to his circus.</p>
<p>The young blonde circus performer stifled a groan as the faint silhouette of their campsite atop the hill that rested at the edge of the city outskirts, near a meadow.</p>
<p>She chewed on the wall of her mouth and had been about to take another reluctant step forward to attempt to locate Sarousch and tell the vain pig of a man that as the ringmaster, he was just going to have to get someone <em>else</em> when the sound of a familiar husky voice rent the night air behind her.</p>
<p>“Quasimodo’s a kind man, isn’t he?” a woman’s voice, low, husky, and warm spoke up from behind her. “It’s rare to find good people like him.”</p>
<p>The petite little blonde raised her head so fast in shock and alarm at the sound of the familiar woman’s voice from earlier, Esmeralda, if Madellaine wasn’t mistaken, that a muscle in her neck pulled the wrong way and sent a horrible white-hot flaring wave of pain up her neck and around the contour of her right ear.</p>
<p>She yelped in response and clamped a shaking hand to her now-aching ear and neck in hopes of soothing the pain as she spun on the heels of her boots.</p>
<p>Just as she had suspected and was able to recognize from the husky tone of the woman’s almost seductive-sounding voice, the beautiful, slightly older woman from earlier outside the front steps of the cathedral stood near the entrance to her circus’s camp.</p>
<p>Esmeralda was watching her, her pale green irises alight with a dawning sense of intrigue and some other emotion that Madellaine could not quite place right now.</p>
<p>Madellaine found she had nothing to say in response and simply smiled, nodding her agreement.</p>
<p>“Did he give you a tour of the tower?” quipped Esmeralda, winding her shawl tighter around herself, her green eyes sparkling almost mischievously as Madellaine looked up in surprise and alarm at her query, wondering how it was on earth Esmeralda knew.</p>
<p>Perhaps that was why the young circus performer could already tell she was going to like this woman’s company, assuming that in time, she and Esmeralda could become bosom friends. She could tell as her eyes made a quick scan of her, that she was a survivor, and did not seem to be the type to wallow in self-misery.</p>
<p>Madellaine nodded shyly, not bothering to tamper down the soft smile that tugged the edges of her pink lips upward in a soft, gentle smile. “H—he did. Your—your friend, Quasi, he is…quite kind and gentle,” she murmured, trying, and feeling like she was failing to ignore the light pink blush speckling along her face.</p>
<p>“He is,” Esmeralda agreed, nodding her agreement as her gaze briefly flitted towards the circus’s campsite. “How long is your troupe going to be in town for?” she questioned, a light, casual air to her tone, though Madellaine wasn’t fooled. She knew Quasimodo’s friend was trying to gauge how long she would be in Paris for in the event the man was taking a bit of a shine to her.</p>
<p>Madellaine’s smile faltered only a little, though she quickly shrugged her shoulders in what she hoped came across as a causal manner. “A few weeks, I think, though…” she hesitated, unsure just how much of Sarousch’s cruelty towards her she could divulge to Esmeralda, who, although she could tell she liked her, was still very much a stranger to her in this regard. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she kept her gaze fixated on the faint silhouette of Sarousch’s unmistakable caravan. It was easy to spot which was his, as her master’s wagon was easily the most lavish and largest of the entire line up. Esmeralda followed her gaze and furrowed her thin dark eyebrows into a slight frown.</p>
<p>“Is there something bothering you, Madellaine?” she questioned in a kind voice, shivering as a cool gust of wind whipped through the air, tousling the skirts of her dress, and blowing her dark hair off of her shoulders.</p>
<p>Madellaine’s eyes widened at the query. “I…no, well, yes, I—I this is all too much, I—I think. My master, he…” But her voice cracked and trailed off and she didn’t complete the sentence as her gaze stayed fixed on Sarousch’s caravan, as she felt something ugly rise within herself, a stinging prickling heat creeping to her cheeks. “I don’t want to,” she whispered, her voice faint.</p>
<p>“Your master, has he ever hurt you?” Esmeralda asked sharply, narrowing her eyes in suspicion at this new little young blonde woman, wanting the truth.</p>
<p>“Y—yes,” Madellaine whispered, nervously wringing her hands together, biting down on her bottom lip. Esmeralda seemed nice enough, like a woman who cared, and she figured it would do her no good to lie.</p>
<p>She winced as she gingerly rubbed at her wrists near where the harsh metal of her master’s golden manacles had chafed at her skin and rubbed it raw.</p>
<p>Madellaine was honestly surprised that Quasimodo hadn’t spotted the raw markings, these horrible vicious lines where the material had dug in.</p>
<p>Or if he had, he’d not wanted to intrude into her personal business and ask about it, for which she felt grateful, and yet, there was a tiny part of her that felt…<em>disappointed</em>. She <em>wanted</em> him to feel concerned.</p>
<p>Esmeralda, who shot her a sympathetic look, opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to say something, perhaps to offer a word or two of comfort, merely thought better of it and shut her mouth instead.</p>
<p>“Ah, I know I can’t offer you much,” Madellaine began awkwardly, not really sure where this was coming from, “but would you like to join me for supper? I’m sure old Yaga’s made her famous stew again. It’s not much, but I don’t want you to get sick out here in this cold…”</p>
<p>Much to her surprise and delight, Esmeralda nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I’d love that,” she said kindly, inclining her head and clasping her fingers together, not protesting when the young blonde circus performer wound her arm around Esmeralda’s and almost excitedly, with a little more spring in her step, led her towards the flickering glint of a campfire, wherein which, as Madellaine had surmised, Baba Yaga was preparing her usual makeshift stew, chopping up leeks and salted beef along with carrots and a few other vegetables that looked questionable, but it smelled great.</p>
<p>“There you are, little dove,” Baba Yaga chirped in her warbling voice, barely glancing up from the cauldron she was so preoccupied over. “I see you brought a <em>friend</em>.” She finally lifted her gaze to meet Esmeralda’s questioning stare, a dark little chuckle escaping her lips as she flashed a gap-toothed grin at the pair of women.</p>
<p>Madellaine pursed her lips into a frown, sensing her new friend’s growing discomfort and unease as Baba had that way of staring at you in a way that made you feel as though she were staring straight through your soul. She practically felt Esmeralda stiffen in response.</p>
<p>“Baba, this is Esmeralda. She’s…”</p>
<p>She hesitated, her voice trailing off as she glanced at the slightly older woman out of the corner of her eye, though finally, her heart spoke for her. “A new friend,” she proclaimed proudly, feeling a swell of warmth in her chest as she swore she caught Esmeralda smiling out of the corner of her peripherals as she held out her hands to help Baba ladle two helpings of truly delicious-smelling stew into two cracked and chipped wooden bowls, along with a small helping of bread and a hard rind of Brie cheese.</p>
<p>The old crone merely grunted in response, with a wave of her gnarled, arthritic hand, shooed them away.</p>
<p>“She’s a dancer and a fortune teller, child, is what she is. I’ve seen you about,” she added, casting Esmeralda a knowing glance before turning her attention back to the blonde. “Don’t let <em>me</em> stop you then,” she grumbled. “Oh, and Sarousch wants to speak with you, little belle, as soon as you’re finished eating,” she said, almost as if an afterthought, though Baba Yaga didn’t sound concerned. Madellaine groaned and rolled her eyes, though she nodded by way of response as she dragged Esmeralda by her forearm and led her to the shade of an old pine tree, closest to the fire and yet away from the other folks in their troupe. She flinched as she tried to ignore the conjoined twins’ Erik and Jakob’s staring.</p>
<p>If those two thought she wasn’t made aware of how their collective gazes followed her, they were <em>wrong</em>. The young woman did not speak again until she got herself situated underneath the tree, her back resting against the gnarled bark, not caring if the wood dug splinters into her back, cutting through her green dress.</p>
<p>Madellaine glanced down into her bowl of still-hot soup, at the chunks of meat and vegetables sifting through the broth. She took a bite as the two women sat in silence and ate for a moment, letting her mind wander. This day had gone by so utterly fast. She felt like she was still reeling from everything that had happened.</p>
<p>She could not stop thinking about the bell ringer’s eyes, and what little fleeting glimpses here and there she had managed to catch of the north bell tower loft, how simplistic, humble, and yet breathtakingly pretty it was.</p>
<p>He’d done his best to make the place feel like home. Though for the life of her, Madellaine couldn’t imagine what it would be like for the poor soul to live in the vast cathedral all alone with hardly anyone to talk to.</p>
<p>A pang of guilt and sympathy ran through her at the thought of the kind, sweet man she’d met today, living alone his entire life, never to know the joys of being loved back and cared for by someone else, then.</p>
<p>She had an inkling that his heart was pure and golden, with a personality that matched, and his eyes—</p>
<p>“For God’s sake, I just <em>met</em> the man!” she shouted, throwing up her hands in exasperation, almost spilling her stew in the process and earning a furrowed brow from Esmeralda in return for her little surprise outburst.</p>
<p>Madellaine noticed her new friend staring at her, a look of bemusement coupled with concern on her face, and felt a fiery heat creeping its way up both her cheeks.</p>
<p>“Is there something wrong?” Esmeralda asked, a slightly teasing lilt to her otherwise husky voice as she set aside her finished bowl of stew and ripped off a chunk of bread with her teeth, resting her cheek in her fist and leaning forward from her spot on the old log.</p>
<p>“I…yes. No. Maybe. I—I’m not sure…” Madellaine stammered, her blush intensifying as she recognized she was babbling. But much to her surprise, rather than becoming annoyed with her for it, Esmeralda shook her head pointedly and chuckling a little at her expression.</p>
<p>“It’s all right, my friend. You don’t need to explain yourself, Madellaine. I saw it in your eyes you meant the church’s bell ringer no harm. You were merely curious. I will say however,” she added, with mock sternness, as she gazed at the blonde in a way that she didn’t know what to make of, “that my friend does not let just anyone venture up into his tower. We’ve had…ah…problems in the past, shall we say, of people trying to get a look at him, to see the ‘monster’ that lurks within the shadows.”</p>
<p>Madellaine froze. This news she hadn’t been expecting and didn’t quite know what to say to that.</p>
<p>“I…that’s awful,” she murmured, feeling a surge of temper start to well within her, anger pricking at her. She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder towards Sarousch’s caravan, suddenly feeling guilty.</p>
<p>She could not do this to Quasi. <em>Would</em> not do it. Sarousch wasn’t going to like it, but he’d get someone else, but she wanted no more part of his stupid plans.</p>
<p>A new thought flitted across her mind. <em>I’m visiting him tomorrow but…is there a way that I could flee this place? Could there be a way to leave Sarousch behind</em>?</p>
<p>“You could claim sanctuary.” Esmeralda’s voice startled her so bad that she almost swallowed her spoon.</p>
<p>Madellaine erupted into a coughing fit that poor Esmeralda had to thump her on the back until the piece of meat from her stew that had gone down the wrong windpipe promptly got dislodged, waiting for her newfound friend’s violent coughing spell to subside.</p>
<p>Esmeralda raised her brows. “Are you all right?”</p>
<p>“F—fine,” Madellaine managed to gasp out hoarsely in response. “Just—just choked a little, Esmeralda. Was there…what was that you just said?”</p>
<p>“Your master,” was all Esmeralda said, looking concerned as she looked at the young blonde’s flabbergasted expression. “You said that he hurts you?”</p>
<p>Oh. “Th—that’s right, b—but only sometimes,” Madellaine whispered, putting a hand over her racing heart. She’d thought for certain her new friend had the capability to read minds, for how else could she have known? “It’s…it’s really not so bad,” Madellaine said.</p>
<p>Esmeralda shot her a disparaging look that told her she didn’t believe her. “You should not have to suffer through that. If he <em>hurts</em> you, if it gets bad enough, go to Notre Dame. Claim sanctuary and your master cannot touch you as long as you remain inside of its walls.”</p>
<p>“I…thank you, for your kind words and consideration, my friend, but I’m sure I will be just fine.”</p>
<p>In truth, Madellaine was not expecting the older Romani woman to be so kind to her, having only known her maybe a precious half-hour, forty-five minutes at best, and in her current state of vulnerability, her kindness and selflessness felt like a stab in the heart.</p>
<p>She could feel tears beginning to well up at the edges of her vision as she pointedly looked away then.</p>
<p>She did not want Esmeralda to see her cry.</p>
<p>“It would give you the opportunity to see <em>him</em> again,” came Esmeralda’s voice, slightly mischievous.</p>
<p>Madellaine was so startled that she whiplashed her head towards the left to regard the woman that the neck muscle she had previously injured re-pulled, and she yelped in pain, rubbing at the back of her neck gingerly.</p>
<p>Esmeralda’s lips twitched upward in a kind smile, her green eyes twinkling in the faint amber glow emanating from the flames of her troupe’s campfire.</p>
<p>“I <em>thought</em> so,” she joked. Though before the stunned circus performer could ask her what she meant by that, the Romani woman winked at her and smiled as she set aside her empty bowl of soup. “I can see in your eyes that you like him. I'm sure my friend feels the same. He's quite shy, you know, and I think it would do him a world of good if he were to make another friend besides my husband and myself. Thank you very much for the meal. It was delicious. Would you like your fortune told, my friend? It’s the very least I can do in order to repay you for your kindness,’ she offered softly.</p>
<p>“My—my fortune?” repeated Madellaine quietly, blinking owlishly at the older woman, wondering if she had heard Esmeralda correctly just now in that regard.</p>
<p>Esmeralda’s lips twitched upward in a kind smile, her eyes twinkling in the light cast from the campfire.</p>
<p>"I can see that, at least, has piqued your interest. Very well." Before Madellaine could protest, much less utter a single syllable, the older Romani woman took hold of the young blonde’s hand, and gazed deep, almost in an intimate manner, into Madellaine’s pale blue eyes.</p>
<p>It was as if she were searching for something, and it unnerved Madellaine, though she had no time to question it as she spoke up. "You will find happiness, my friend," murmured the woman in a hoarse, raspy voice, narrowing her eyes, her piercing green gaze intense, as if bearing straight through her soul. "But not in the way you will expect it to happen. Love, true love, I see it in your life, a true rarity in this world, so cherish it. You'll feel a rare, pure, and powerful love for someone and the man—"</p>
<p>Just as Madellaine had been intently listening to the Seer's so-called 'fortune,' Esmeralda let go of Madellaine’s hand, as though the very touch of her skin against her own had burned her, an immensely disturbing expression flitting across her face.</p>
<p>"Wh—what is it?" stammered Madellaine worriedly. "E--Esmeralda? Did you…see something?"</p>
<p>But Esmeralda had already molded her features into a mask of perfect indifference, calm serenity, as they both stood from the ground, with Esmeralda wobbling slightly as she did just so, her equilibrium off from whatever trance she had just slipped herself into.</p>
<p>"Nothing, my friend," the older woman replied in a nebulous tone. "I—I just saw something in your future that I was not expecting at all. But…nothing you should trouble yourself with just yet, though there will come a time regarding our...mutual friend when you must make a choice. I've seen two alternate paths that you could take, though which one you choose is up to you and remains to be seen. I don't know which path you will take, and when the time comes, you won't have much time to make it, but know that it concerns a matter of life and death. But you do not need to worry about that, for now. Not yet anyway. And rest assured, you'll find that love and happiness in your life that you seek. That is all that matters… Now if you will kindly excuse me, I need to go.”</p>
<p>As Esmeralda started to make her way out of the circus’s campsite to head back towards the direction from which she came, Madellaine pondered over her 'future.'</p>
<p>Yet again, Madellaine had managed to find herself in a unique situation where somebody had attempted to comfort her, but it had only succeeded in bringing her more confusion and a sense of unease. She blinked owlishly at the older woman, staring at her, and was surprised when the dark-haired Romani called to her over her shoulder, pausing halfway down the cobblestoned streets to look at Madellaine, smiling.</p>
<p>"You should head inside. See what your master wants. I’m sure he’s waiting for you,” she said quietly.</p>
<p>Glancing up, the older woman’s words quickly snapped the young witch back into reality. She was right, she had to see Sarousch before he grew even angrier.</p>
<p>"Thank you," Madellaine called out as quietly as she could, careful to keep her voice low, not wanting to alert anyone else to her presence. "It was wonderful to sit and talk with you, Esmeralda. If you ever want some company, you know where to find me."</p>
<p>"That is most generous of you, my friend, I shall keep that in mind. Now, you should get out of here, you're already late as it is!"</p>
<p>Madellaine nodded, smiling at her, before turning away and heading towards Sarousch’s large caravan.</p>
<p>As she glanced back over her shoulder, Madellaine stopped dead in her tracks. It was as if Esmeralda had never been here in the first place. "Weird," she whispered to herself before turning back around.</p>
<p>Madellaine mulled over her 'fortune' as she walked at a slow pace, dreading this conversation she was about to have with her master, not really sure if she believed in fortune-telling or destiny or fate, but something had been disturbing enough, whatever Esmeralda had seen, to trouble her. It was, in her mind, more than a little unnerving…</p>
<p>Though the moment she wrenched open the door and set one foot inside Sarousch’s caravan, an angry voice made her stop dead in her tracks, immobile.</p>
<p>"Where did you disappear to, my little trinket? Did you really think that I didn't <em>know</em> you spent the entirety of your day at the cathedral?" Came his voice in what Tonks could only describe as a low, angered little growl.</p>
<p>His voice sounded rough, coarse, grating, almost…<em>wolfish</em>. Predatory. The man’s eyes burned brighter than midnight torches as he stepped from the shadows, revealing his form, his handsome face pulled tautly, his skin almost waxy looking in his growing rage.</p>
<p>She gulped and swallowed down past a swelling lump in her throat. “I…” she started to say, not sure what she was going to say, as all thoughts of telling her master that she could not follow through with his plan promptly fled her mind, leaving her feeling terrified.</p>
<p>The only thing she knew for sure as Sarousch slowly stalked towards her, looking like a wild panther stalking its prey, was that she did not like how the man was looking at her while he waited for her to speak up.</p>
<p>She didn’t like it. Not. One. Bit. And she could already tell by the way her master’s eyes narrowed that she was about to be in a very big spot of trouble now.</p>
<p>Very <em>big</em> trouble.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>9</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>SAROUSCH</strong> let out a low warning growl from deep within the confines of his chest as he looked at the young blonde’s gaze, already seeing the defiance and reluctance to go along with his plan shimmering in her blue irises. Madellaine flinched, her facial muscles tensing as he approached, preparing herself for another of her master’s harsh pelts, the stinging of his strong palm across her cheek. But that moment for Barreau never came at all.</p>
<p>When it didn’t, her blue eyes flung wide open, certain she was dreaming. This was perhaps the first time in their lives that Sarousch had not hit her for failing to follow through with what he had asked of her. Much to her surprise (and dread!) Sarousch, though he did not look at all pleased with his servant, was looking <em>calm</em>.</p>
<p>This was <em>not</em> going to be good. It was <em>never</em> a good thing when Master Sarousch was calm. Madellaine swallowed down thickly, not sure if she should be apprehensive or suspicious of his behavior. Probably the latter if she knew her master.</p>
<p>“I—I’m not going to do this, Sarousch,” Madellaine whispered faintly through gritted teeth, actively averting the man’s piercing, hardened gaze. She did not want to look into the man’s eyes and see the smoldering, fathomless rage burning within. Her words had no effect on Sarousch, who merely rolled his eyes and scoffed at her.</p>
<p>"Need I remind you, my <em>daughter</em>, that you are saying that as though you think you have a <em>choice</em>," he snapped. "You don't, dear, just in case you've forgotten. <em>You're</em> the one who stole from <em>me</em>. I could have killed you that day, little dove, in the streets, for trying to steal coins from me. It's no less than you <em>deserve</em>. For that, the debt you owe me must be paid. Did you forget, Barreau, that I <em>own</em> you? You belong to <em>me</em>, and you'll do as I say if you want to live." He was treating her as though she were no more than his precious <em>pet</em>.</p>
<p>Madellaine let out a heavy sigh, repressing the urge to roll her eyes and throw back her head, and <em>scream</em>.</p>
<p>Was there no way out of this that didn't end with someone, namely <em>him</em>, getting hurt? Being in the middle of whatever her master was planning, especially her part in all of this, made Madellaine feel incredibly uneasy as a result. She shivered, but not with the cold, as she glanced back over her shoulder and up towards the second level.</p>
<p>Madellaine's frown deepened. She bit down on her bottom lip in a slight pout and slowly turned around. She didn't know what her Master was doing here, but she had to make Sarousch see that this was a job for any other young woman under the ringmaster’s command, but not her! <em>Not</em> her!</p>
<p>For she could not—<em>would</em> not—hurt Quasimodo. The man had gone out of his way tonight to be kind to her. Showed her things. She owed him. This type of job was perfect for someone <em>else</em>. A someone that wasn't <em>her</em> and her master knew this.</p>
<p>Madellaine felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. The young circus performer blushed and stifled her shriek of surprise at the sound of someone opening the door to Sarousch’s caravan caused her heart to throb against her chest, a hand over her racing heart, the other clamped over her mouth to stifle her scream, and the pit in her stomach intensified. Erik and Jakob stood there, eyeing Madellaine's figure in her dress interestedly.</p>
<p>The pair of conjoined twins’ interested, piercing stares felt like a knife in the back of her skull. She blushed as she purposefully looked away, her cheeks flushing high with color as she swallowed down a lump in her throat. A job of this caliber was <em>not</em> suited for someone like <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>She didn't understand men. Sarousch had never allowed her to converse with other men her own age and talking to another man without his express permission was strictly forbidden unless he gave his willing consent. He'd made that painstakingly clear one morning when he'd caught her talking to Laurent, a man around her age, like her only a few years older and was in the midst of a panic attack, when Sarousch had caught the two of them together and had taken it upon himself to break his servant’s thumb and forefinger as punishment, effectively scaring Laurent away from her, with Laurent not wanting Madellaine to get hurt on his behalf, then.</p>
<p>If he insisted on a woman doing this for him, then Sarousch could easily purchase the services of one of the girls that sold their bodies for money at the Rue de Glatigny, in the alleyways. At that thought, the petite blonde crinkled her nose in disgust.</p>
<p>Madellaine knew she would never allow herself to stoop that low, selling her body and soul for money, no matter how desperate she became. She'd rather <em>die</em> first. Of course, such obvious logic was not going to get through to the vain beast that dared to call himself her master, currently seated next to her on the steps.</p>
<p>Getting Sarousch to see the light of what he was doing all to line his pockets with as much money and wealth as he possibly could, was wrong, was going to require a bit of tact and subtlety. Madellaine exhaled a slightly shaky breath through her flaring nostrils, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, hating herself for the poisonous words she was about to spout about her new friend. He seemed kind enough and in her eyes was handsome, though she knew better than most not everyone would see him as such.</p>
<p>She turned her head to the left to avoid looking the twins in the eyes, a muscle in her jaw twitching the angrier she became as Madellaine dwelled on whatever Sarousch was planning to do to her tonight, but she could endure it. If it meant that her master would set her free of this task and that no one would get hurt, then she would be willing to allow the older, stronger man to beat her within an inch of her life if she thought it would save Quasi.</p>
<p>She could live with such a death, Madellaine told herself, though it did nothing to mask the terror she was sure was evident in her pale blue orbs as Sarousch almost slowly, methodically turned his head to look at her, his own blue eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>"I made a <em>mistake</em>, Master," Madellaine continued, drawing in a frigid breath of cold air that caused her thrashing lungs to burn, begging for relief, as her mind flitted back to the day Sarousch and Yaga had found her on the streets.</p>
<p>She'd wandered out onto the streets, orphaned, and utterly alone, and had made the grave mistake of picking Sarousch's pocket near Echo Alley, just outside of Reams, wanting some money to buy herself some food. Sarousch had caught her, and rather than cutting off her hand or turning her over to the king’s guard’s archers for stealing, had taken her in and raised her, ‘out of the goodness of his heart.’</p>
<p>"Y—you don't <em>understand</em>," Madellaine began hesitantly, biting down on her bottom lip as she nervously and painfully twisted her hands together.</p>
<p>"What, little dove, don't I understand?" Sarousch asked in a droll, dry voice, sounding as though he did not care one way or another.</p>
<p>"Y—you didn't <em>see</em> him," she continued, squeezing her eyes shut as visions of the man's pale, tormented face, that protruding contusion over his browbone that mauled his otherwise handsome features, and haunting blue eyes clouded her mind. "I—I don't want to be a part of this anymore, Master. That man, your bell ringer you’ve got your eye on, he’s gentle, kind, and sweet. He’d not fit in well in our troupes, Master Sarousch," she hissed, narrowing her blue eyes and swiveling her head around to glower at the twins, feeling their sets of eyes crawl all up to her back.</p>
<p>She had been about to follow up her statement with something along the lines of '<em>the monstrous appearance of Claude Frollo’s adopted son was too much for me to handle</em>,' but Sarousch cut her off before she could continue her argument, which was admittedly a shame. Madellaine felt certain Sarousch would have let her off the hook if she had mentioned that, considering how obsessed he was with his own looks, which she thought rather odd. There was nothing that could be done to pretty her master’s scarred, awful visage.</p>
<p>"I can't do this, Master, what you ask of me. I—I'm not…strong enough. I <em>won't</em> do this." Her voice escaped her lips as a mere, hoarse croak as Madellaine felt her cobalt blue orbs mist with the fresh onset of tears, and she groaned.</p>
<p>She had thought her tears now long spent. Her face was beginning to crumble, leaving her nose red at the tip, and blushing with stifled sobs. Every inch of her protested her master’s stupid plan, but no one she knew possessed magic enough to send her back in time and stop this all from happening, otherwise, she’d be first in line. Though the words tumbled unchecked from her lips before she could think of stopping herself, they lacked the conviction to sell the argument Madellaine really wanted to make to him.</p>
<p>His voice, when Sarousch responded to her claims regarding Quasi’s visage, was ice-cold and unforgiving. She supposed she ought to have expected as much from this <em>beast</em>.</p>
<p>"You should have <em>thought</em> of that before you <em>stole</em> from me and talked back, Madellaine, yes?"</p>
<p>Madellaine groaned inwardly. For the rest of her life following her turning, Sarousch tended to bring this up whenever Madellaine attempted to resist his demands, which was often.</p>
<p>"B—but you were being—" Madellaine started to say to him before Sarousch raised a hand and cut her off.</p>
<p>"Utterly within my rights to dole out an appropriate punishment for you back then, darling," Sarousch finished coldly, fixing his adopted young ward with a glacier-cold stare that rendered her blood to ice in her veins, chilling her insides, almost paralyzing her so that Madellaine could barely move a muscle at all. Madellaine did not know what to say to Sarousch's claim, so she opted for silence instead. If Sarousch noticed his servant’s growing discomfort, he was either completely oblivious to it or ignored it entirely as he continued.</p>
<p>"I <em>did</em> warn you, Madellaine, what will happen to you and that precious other young lad whom you took a liking to. What was the boy's name? <em>Laurent</em>, wasn't it?" he growled, glancing sideways out of the corner of his eyes, registering the dawning look of shock and anger on Madellaine's paling features.</p>
<p>Madellaine spluttered and stammered to think of a retort, but when she tried to find her voice, all that came out was a strangled attempt at speech. He snorted and continued speaking.</p>
<p>"You don't do as I ask, it's not only you that's going to suffer. I'll cut Laurent’s limbs off one by one if you don't do this. Really, darling, I don't know why you're making such a fuss over this. It's quite an easy job, little dove. Just talk to him, smile at him, bat those pretty lashes of yours, kiss him, and he'll be like putty in your hands. Your part in this is relatively easy. Just do this for me, and no one else will get hurt. It's quite simple, little pet."</p>
<p>Madellaine felt her temper swell within her chest, that familiar hot fire-seed of anger before she could stop herself.</p>
<p>"I wish you could hear yourself, Master," she muttered sadly before she felt something within her shift, and Madellaine began to grow angry. "F—Sarousch, forgive me for speaking out of line here, b—but your behavior the night you turned me like…<em>this</em>," she growled, gesturing towards the scars near her right breast and on her collarbones, "was not at all honorable! You talk to me constantly of how I owe you for that! For 'saving my life!' I would have rather taken my chances out on the streets," she spat, not caring how angry her Sarousch became upon hearing her words. "Think of what you're <em>saying</em>! You demand that I lure this man out of his tower, and for <em>what</em>? For the money, with no regard for what I want, yet you claim to love me? You don't, Master! So much talk of <em>respect</em>," Madellaine growled angrily, spitting the last word at her Sarousch as though it were a bitter poison capsule that had settled upon her tongue.</p>
<p>Madellaine angrily looked away. Now, Sarousch <em>did</em> seem irritated, judging by the way she heard her Sarousch emanate a tense exhale through his flaring nostrils and the way his piercing eyes of blue narrowed as he tilted his head to look at her, much in the same way a dog would do when it stumbled across a thing it found curious and wasn't sure what to do to it. His previous calm nature was quickly replaced by something much darker, something Madellaine had always feared. He was growing furious, and this time, no one was coming to Madellaine's aid. Old Baba Yaga was nowhere in sight.</p>
<p>"You feel as though you are being treated unfairly by me and Baba Yaga, <em>don't</em> you, little <em>dove</em>? Don't <em>think</em> of <em>lying</em> to me," he growled, hissing his words through gritted teeth as he waited for Madellaine to answer.</p>
<p>Madellaine paused, wanting desperately to contain her honesty, but strangely found she couldn't. "Yes." It would do her no good to lie, especially not to Sarousch. She didn't want to further incite the older werewolf's anger more.</p>
<p>"You feel as though the life she and I have given you, out of the kindness of our hearts, has been <em>unfair</em>, don't you, little dove?" growled Sarousch, swiveling his head to his right to regard his adopted daughter in anger. Madellaine would have replied, but Sarousch sounded oddly hurt.</p>
<p>As if, somehow, by a miracle of God Himself, she'd found his weak spot. But for the life of her, Madellaine couldn't bloody figure out what Sarousch's weak spot was if even the savage beast of a man had one. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sarousch took advantage of his daughter's moment of hesitancy and interjected before she could.</p>
<p>"Well, Madellaine, let me tell you a useful truth so you don't set yourself up for disappointment," he snarled. "You want more out of life. I know that. So does Yaga, but life, pet, is unfair. Anyone who would tell you any differently is <em>selling</em> something. The people of this world are no bloody better than those stupid fictitious books you love to read so much. They're even worse. Just look what happened to people like <em>us</em>," Sarousch growled in a low tone.</p>
<p>Madellaine merely blinked owlishly in response as Sarousch looked down his nose at her, his mouth twisted upward into a truly vile smirk. It wasn't often Sarousch spoke of his childhood. She didn't know much of it. Just that he, like her, had once been only human, struggling to survive, on the streets, and had turned to thievery in order to make ends meet before he became a ringmaster. The rest, Madellaine didn't know, nor was she sure she <em>wanted</em> to understand where his sick penchant came for attracting freaks.</p>
<p>Sarousch's tone was bitter, but though his speech was cutting, like aiming a sharpened point of a dagger straight towards her heart, Sarousch did not sound as if he enjoyed saying such stinging remarks to his adopted daughter.</p>
<p>Madellaine frowned as Sarousch looked away, his piercing blue eyes drifting towards her scars on her chest when the savage man swiveled back around. Feeling panic rise within her chest, she began to speak rapidly in response, her eyes cast towards her boots, not wanting to meet the other wolf's hardened gaze, to see his eyes.</p>
<p>"I'm afraid, Master, that I can't offer you an apt enough response because we've strayed too far in our conversation. The only thing I can do is <em>apologize</em> for what happened and ensure I will never steal from you again," Madellaine whispered. "I made a <em>mistake</em>. I was only four years old. How long are you going to hold this over my head?"</p>
<p>She could not bloody believe the words that were pouring out of her mouth, but she simply wanted the conversation to end so her Sarousch would leave her alone in peace to get on with it.</p>
<p>Give the man whatever he wanted, and then he would leave her alone. He let out a low snarl.</p>
<p>"For as long as I <em>want</em>, pet," he answered simply. "I don't want to discuss in detail what happened that day. We were both there, we <em>lived</em> it," Sarousch retorted coldly, sounding slightly more subdued than before, which Madellaine thought odd. "I don't need to justify myself to you, Madellaine. It's clear to me you think me a merciless brute, a monster, which is what you think of me, though I could have left you alone that day, I <em>didn’t</em>, so it's high time you <em>stop</em> treating me like <em>I'm</em> the one who left you. Yaga and I took you in out of the kindness of our hearts, so don't even think about getting an attitude with me, Madellaine. I don't need your lip and backtalk from you tonight. I am not as heartless as you think. I merely supposed you were aware of the world that we lived in, but perhaps I was mistaken in that regard, dear. You're <em>naïve</em>."</p>
<p>Madellaine felt her fury and sadness well up within the pit of her churning stomach again, and she let out a haggard sigh and bit her lip. The nerve of her 'Sarousch.' She could not stand Sarousch and his brutish, barbaric ways. He was beginning to sound more like his old self, while Madellaine felt ostracized.</p>
<p>"Why did you talk back to me earlier, love?" Sarousch questioned, startling Madellaine so badly she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from letting out a gasp of surprise, not wanting to alert someone outside to what was going on, then.</p>
<p>She had not anticipated the man would ask such a question of her, and Madellaine was not prepared to give an adequate answer that she knew Sarousch was going to be satisfied with. Still, Madellaine knew that she had to at least try. She hesitated initially at offering up a verbal response but relented when she saw the hulking man shoot a truly withering look Madellaine's way.</p>
<p>“I'm under your servitude for my…life debt," Madellaine began, choosing her words carefully, speaking slowly and cautiously, as though she were speaking to a tantrum-prone twelve-year-old child rather than a fully grown man of forty-two, "but I am not your <em>slave</em>! I have every right to say no to this!”</p>
<p>But Sarousch raised a hand and cut her off before she could think about continuing her perspective, not even letting Madellaine finish. "How <em>dare</em> you?! Have you no sense of your position, you insolent little <em>witch</em>?" he bellowed, balling his dirtied hands into fists at his sides.</p>
<p>"Yes, but this doesn't make me a lesser being, a person lower than <em>you</em>, Master, with no freedom!" Madellaine retorted angrily, bolting to her feet, and brushing the palms of her hands on the skirts of her dress, narrowing her eyes, and taking a faltering step back to the door.</p>
<p>Even as Sarousch stood towering over her, looking down at Madellaine with narrowed, beady eyes that reminded the young blonde more of a pit viper's slit-like pupils, she could feel herself start to pant as she struggled to control the surge of rapid-fire anger swirling within her, her pale grey-blue orbs glowering at her master and Sarousch figure with as much hatred as she could possibly muster.</p>
<p>Sarousch, like a panther looking towards its prey, stalked towards his adopted daughter and servant, his blue eyes narrowed with cynicism and disgust. "Oh, darling," Sarousch muttered quietly in a dangerously soft voice that made Madellaine cower. She would have preferred it if he'd shouted. He continued, his lips curling upward to reveal his sharpened, pointed incisors and pink gums. "You're mistaken, Madellaine, if you think you have any sense of free will while you are under my protection and caregiving, little dove. You described to me once as a monster. <em>Fine</em>. If that's what you think of me, then so bloody be it. Then let me be the <em>monster</em> that you think your master to be, little dove, though it <em>truly</em> breaks my heart."</p>
<p>It was several long moments before he continued speaking, having to pause to draw in a breath.</p>
<p>"You're going to go back inside that building to the wretch’s bell tower tonight, tomorrow, the next month, the next year, I don't care how long it takes you if it means getting closer to him in order to entice him out. If I find that you don't do this for me tonight, your little secret <em>boyfriend</em>, <em>Laurent</em>, is going to find himself without his arms and legs before I go for the throat and kill him."</p>
<p>Madellaine's jaw dropped open in shock and anger as Sarousch towered over her, leaning in close and lowering himself slightly so that the tip of his slender, slightly hooked nose practically touched the edge of her slender and really quite perfect cute little nose.</p>
<p>"H—<em>how dare you</em>?!" she shouted, feeling her face pale in anger as she took a step back up the steps, grabbing onto the skirts of her ivory chemise and dark green overdress in a defensive manner. "Do you have <em>any</em> idea how you sound right now? And what happens to <em>me</em> if I say <em>no</em> to this? Master—"</p>
<p>"This <em>isn't</em> a request, <em>sweetheart</em>," Sarousch growled, effectively cutting off his servant from whatever insult she'd been about to sling his way next.</p>
<p>Madellaine shirked away from her Sarousch and the unexpected intimacy of the unwanted closeness as much as she possibly could until her back rested against the door.</p>
<p>He was scolding as though what her Sarousch was asking of the young blonde was little more than to fetch him a glass of wine or water. Not discussing the subject of seducing a man and helping to play a part in his kidnapping. Madellaine visibly winced, casting her gaze to the ground, not wanting to meet her Sarousch's cold glower. Something about the way Sarousch was staring at her made Madellaine feel exposed and vulnerable. She needed to stand her ground.</p>
<p><em>Be strong. Refuse. Spit in his face. Say no</em>! But she couldn't do it, and her Sarousch knew that about her, that she wasn't strong enough to. Sarousch smirked, revealing his pink gums in the process that always made Madellaine shudder, knowing full bloody well he'd won this round.</p>
<p>"All you need to do for the monster is look pretty, and I'll…take care of the rest, dear. It will be no trouble, Madellaine, and no one else needs to get hurt here if you be a good girl, right?"</p>
<p>Madellaine did not like the sudden edge to her Sarousch's tone. She turned away, a muscle in her jaw twitching, afraid to look at her Sarousch's face. "You <em>will</em> obey me, pet. I thought that perhaps if you should need a little incentive to do as I've asked, if you don't seduce that little wretch upstairs in the tower, your hand in marriage will belong to Jakob and Erik over here. Let's see how <em>proud</em> you are then, little éclair," he repeated.</p>
<p>Madellaine started to look up, to turn on the heel of her boot and go outside, to slam the door of his stupid caravan in the older man’s face, only to feel the sharp sting of his hand pelting across her cheek. She heard a gasp of pain escape her lips before Madellaine could tamp it down, and for a moment, she rested against the front door, with her hand pressed against the doorknob, stunned, as the sound was as loud. And then, with a trembling hand, she tentatively touched her burning cheek.</p>
<p><em>Did he really just…slap me</em>? Madellaine thought, seething.</p>
<p>"You <em>will</em> do this for me." It wasn't a question, and Sarousch wasn't asking.</p>
<p>Mutely, Madellaine nodded, blinking back briny tears as she swallowed down a growing lump in her throat.</p>
<p>Sarousch's resounding smirk at her giving in made the young blonde sick with dread. "<em>Good</em>." He released his firm, ironclad grip on her arm, slowly, gently, as a serene calmness overtook his features as he wrenched open the door of his caravan, signaling their conversation had reached its end and he was done with her. "I'm very <em>grateful</em> you've come to see things my way, <em>daughter</em>," he proclaimed in what Madellaine surmised was supposed to be a cheerful tone, though, to her, it sounded sadistic.</p>
<p>Before she could so much as even think of opening her mouth to reply, she turned on her heels to go, not wanting to give her master the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Madellaine felt the onset of fresh tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, welling and stinging.</p>
<p>She gave her head a curt shake to clear it, wiping at her tears frantically with the back of the sleeve of her dress, not wanting anyone to see her cry on her first night in Paris.</p>
<p>Swallowing down the bile that had crept its way from the pit of her churning stomach and up into her throat and settling on her tongue, Madellaine knew at this moment, she hated herself, and the life she'd foolishly stumbled into.</p>
<p>The man was a bloody beast, a wretch, a plague on society. He was out of his mind <em>insane</em>. Madellaine was beginning to wonder just what she'd gotten herself into. She had been about to tell Sarousch that he was going to have to get another woman to do his dirty work for him, because her new friend at the cathedral was a tortured poor soul, seeming to have a gentle soul, and she couldn't—<em>would</em> not—dare to hurt the man who'd only gone out of his way to be kind to her, including breaking his heart. Years had passed since she had unwillingly entered into a life debt of servitude to Sarousch, and she had very much regretted it ever since.</p>
<p>It had been a horrible lapse of judgment. And now? Now, she was trapped in a hellish life with no way out other than to obey Sarousch. He was the devil. And he owned her. Madellaine drew in a sharp breath of cool night air that filled her lungs. As she inhaled slowly, she caught sight of the massive cathedral in the distance.</p>
<p>Her hand stayed behind its ear, having reached up to tuck a stray wisp of her short, shaggy blonde hair back where it belonged. He lived up there all alone. Quasimodo. She wanted to get another good look at the space that he had called home all his life, if the man would still even be up at this late hour of the night.</p>
<p>A thought crossed her mind. <em>Could I claim sanctuary?</em></p>
<p>“No, I—I <em>couldn’t</em>…” She put her hand over her mouth as she tried to silence her thoughts, though her mind was pulled back to Esmeralda’s advice from earlier. If she claimed sanctuary and stayed within the walls of the church, Sarousch wouldn’t be able to touch either one of them. “I <em>could</em> though, but…what would I <em>say</em>?” She began to pace a small line back and forth as she swiftly exited the campsite, trying to ignore the twins staring at her. She had a habit of doing so whenever nervous or thinking.</p>
<p>She let out a heavy sigh and stopped dead in her tracks, shifting her weight to rest on her right leg, crossing her arms nervously below her hammering heart she was surprised the muscle was even still working to pump blood through her veins.</p>
<p>Her gaze landed on the cathedral as, before she knew it, her legs were no longer taking directions from her own mind and heading back towards the direction of the illustrious structure.</p>
<p>Back to Quasi. And hopefully, to newfound freedom.</p>
<p>“Oooh, I can’t believe I’m doing this!” she grumbled darkly under her breath to no one in particular as she stalked down the cobblestone streets, still slick with the rainfall from earlier. “I really am a stupid woman.” Her legs moved at a brisk, quick pace as she trekked her way to the cathedral, hoping that Quasi would still be awake, as she was in a right particular foul mood and could do with some cheering up. The shadows of the moon followed her.</p>
<p>As she walked, she was unaware of the twins following her.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>10</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>QUASI</strong> stared out at what little he could see of the City of Lovers, secretly relishing this time of night, thinking the light of daytime to be garish, and even a year after Claude’s death, the sunlight reflected what he was on the outside, a monster, an almost-made.</p>
<p>Nearly all of the citizens of the city were sound asleep, given the late hour of the night, though sleep was honestly the furthest thing from Notre Dame’s bell ringer’s mind. His thoughts were still preoccupied on Madellaine, she who was not afraid of his visage.</p>
<p>Gazing upon the near-empty streets, he let out a haggard sigh and carded his gloved hands through his thick tuft of red hair. He’d lost track of Madellaine a long while ago, though his gaze had followed her slender silhouette as she disappeared down the cobblestoned streets of Paris until she rounded a corner beyond his line of sight, and he’d reluctantly had to leave the same place on the balcony where he’d sat with her to ring the Vespers.</p>
<p>Glancing down at his hand, he allowed the index finger to ghost along the skin of his inner palm, rough and calloused though it was, he could not shake the phantom sensation of her hand intertwined in his. Any normal man would have forgotten about a young woman like her who was more or less a stranger to him, but it was <em>different</em> for him, Quasimodo could <em>feel</em> it inside.</p>
<p>Esmeralda had told him he would feel it when he was ready, almost like a tiny golden thread connecting him with another. He’d <em>felt</em> it. Like a jolt of lightning passing from the tip of his finger all the way up to his arms and up and down his back, almost the moment their fingers had touched when he’d taken her hand. He couldn’t help but wonder if Madellaine had felt it too.</p>
<p>Quasi could see it all so vividly in his mind; it was as if it were happening, though he knew that he was fooling himself. That reality was out of reach for him. No woman, no matter how kind she was, would ever dare to be with a bastard wretch like him. He was unclean, unworthy of a woman’s affections and love.</p>
<p>He could feel it, could see it, could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t <em>live</em> it, no matter what Phoebus and Esmeralda spouted to try to convince their friend otherwise. Another haggard sigh escaped his cracked lips as he ran a gloved hand over his face, feeling his imperfections beneath his palm. His eyes rested on his strong hand for a moment until he found himself looking past it and down into the square below him.</p>
<p>Quasi felt his breaths hitch as he drew in a sharp breath of cold air that almost made him freeze, though the chill of the late-night air admittedly had nothing to do with it. It was…it was <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>There was no mistaking that flash of golden yellow hair that rivaled the strength of the sun’s rays itself. For a moment, it felt as though he were Icarus, wanting to fly too close to the sun, though knowing what would assuredly happen to him if he tried to. But if it meant he could be near her again, it was worth it to get burned. His eyebrows knitted together in quandary, however, at the most unusual sight to see her wandering the streets alone after dark.</p>
<p>To allow himself a closer look, the young man flung himself over the railing of balustrade and shimmied all the way down to the nearest parapet. He didn’t stop, scaling the towers and walls of the cathedral until he reached fifty feet from the bottom did he finally cease his movements and slunk into the shadows. What in God’s name was Madellaine doing out late?</p>
<p>Had something happened? For a moment, he felt a pang of worry worm its way into the pit of his stomach. It had to be well past midnight and only people with…ill intentions stayed out past this hour and no good ever came from those types of people, no.</p>
<p>From the way his new friend was moving deliberately and cautiously, it seemed like she was uncertain of her movements.</p>
<p>He leaned further over the square and squinted his eyes, though before he could call out to the young blonde mademoiselle and announce his presence, the sound of startled shouting pierced his heart like an arrow. Quasi jerked his head upright, craning his neck to locate the source of the disturbance in the direction from whence it came, and it felt as though someone had doused him in a bucket of cold water. The young girl was not alone on this night.</p>
<p>She was being <em>followed</em>.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Madellaine heard the all-too-familiar shout of the twins behind her and stifled a groan in response, rolling her eyes, resisting the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. How those two had managed to sneak off the perimeter of their campsite without Sarousch or Yaga noticing, she didn’t know, but then a troubling thought occurred to her. One that made her skin shiver underneath.</p>
<p><em>Maybe either one of them sent them to follow me</em>?</p>
<p>Either way, it unnerved her. Madellaine sensed the conjoined twins before saw Erik and Jakob, and the moment she realized one of them had shouted at her, she whipped around. Her heart dropped to the pit of her churning stomach as she laid eyes on the twins, deciding she didn’t like the sickening look of lust and anger and intrigue in their eyes. Not. One. Bit.</p>
<p>Though before Madellaine de Barreau could so much as take one-half step forward, she felt a pair of rough hands grab her firmly by the shoulders and pull her roughly back away from the front steps of Notre Dame, causing her to almost falter and fall.</p>
<p>“<strong>HEY</strong>!” Madellaine shouted, biting down on her bottom lip as the twins spun her around roughly to face them angrily. She looked up at Erik and Jakob with a frown. She hoped Erik and Jakob had a reasonable explanation for their behavior towards her just now and tell her what they wanted of her pretty quickly because Madellaine was beginning to feel perturbed, not to mention, increasingly uncomfortable in the twins’ presence.</p>
<p>The look the twins were shooting her suggested that he was angry with Madellaine. Letting out a pained gasp, the blonde woman inhaled sharply. Madellaine wasn't even aware she was holding in her breath until she felt herself exhale a shaking, pained breath as Jakob cupped her delicate chin in his strong grip, tilting her head slightly to the right, forcing the young woman to meet his hardened, stony, and quite a cold gaze of anger.</p>
<p>"You’re a long way from camp, little dove? Did you…get lost? Perhaps my brother and I can help you become <em>un</em>-lost,” Erik growled. After all, it isn't <em>safe</em> for a pretty little woman-like yourself to be wandering the streets at night, love, never know the types of <em>scoundrels</em> you'll run into," he crooned.</p>
<p>Erik sounded offended, and he certainly looked it as Madellaine pulled a face and scrunched her nose. Madellaine silently bristled, resisting the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. She was not going to have <em>any</em> of this.</p>
<p>She had a mission, a goal, and these twins were standing, quite literally in the way of that, though her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she dared to meet the twins’ piercing gaze and she was quick to decide she did not like the look in either one of their eyes.</p>
<p>"Scoundrels?" Madellaine snorted. "You mean like yourself?" Madellaine asked, her tone piercing and practical. She knew all too well what kind of men the twins were. Barbarians.</p>
<p>The twins seemed to not know what to say in response to such a statement and raised their eyebrows in alarm at Madellaine.</p>
<p>Madellaine tilted her chin upward in a stubborn, set manner and made a move to shove past the twins, intent on going inside the cathedral and seeing what could be done about a claim to the sanctuary, and she wanted to see Quasi again if he was awake.</p>
<p>Before she knew what had happened, the twins grabbed her rather roughly by her shoulder and pulled her back to them. She let out a gasp of annoyance and startled pain, grasping at her shoulder that had been roughly manhandled with her other hand.</p>
<p>"What's your rush, sweetheart? Stay with me for a while. You said you're lost, my dear. Well. Then, allow us to please help you to become un-lost," Erik commanded more than begged, causing Madellaine to struggle and wriggle to break free.</p>
<p>"Ngh—let go of me!" the young blonde woman demanded, not really sure what in God’s name had come over her just now, and how, unless she could reach for her satchel slung over her shoulder, she didn’t know if she’d be able to fight back against this. She did not see why the twins were so intent on her sticking around. It wasn't as if she had ever accidentally given off signals that she was interested in the pair of them or anything…</p>
<p><em>Someone</em>, she begged. <em>Anyone</em>… But no help was coming. No, in order to get out of this, she'd need a bloody miracle. Madellaine knew that her only way out of this was to keep them talking until help could come.</p>
<p>"Please…" Madellaine gasped in a tiny, frightened whisper, let out a low wolfish whine that sounded reminiscent of a dog making a wounded noise after it had been kicked by its master.</p>
<p>She was beginning to feel more trapped and hopeless by the second as her gaze darted wildly to the left and right.</p>
<p>"Erik, Jakob, d—don't do this to me," Madellaine begged, feeling tears spring to her eyes despite her best efforts to quell them. She never thought she would have to beg them not to do this to her, and no longer felt hopeful that talking to the pair of them was going to do her any good by the look in their eyes.</p>
<p>Pulling her hands into fists, Madellaine pushed uselessly against his chest one last time before finally giving up with a frustrated whimper. Fighting back was doing her no good. The girl could only manage a breathy little squeak of terror as he seized her left wrist and shoved her up against the white marble pillar of the cathedral, re-injuring the back muscle she had already pulled the first time he did this.</p>
<p>She let out a pained gasp of surprise and whimpered, clenching her eyes shut tightly, not wanting to see whatever was about to come next.</p>
<p>"You're going to do what I say if you value keeping that tongue of yours, wench, that must be hung in the middle so it can wag at both ends like the dog we know you are. Stay silent and be <em>still</em>," the twins growled threateningly, speaking in tandem like they always did, whispering it into the shell of her ear. "Do I need to say it again? Stay quiet and don't move. You will enjoy it, I can promise you that, pet. Don't make me say it a second time, wolf. I really hate saying it a second time," Erik snarled, almost sounding bored.</p>
<p>When she didn't answer, he continued. "Welcome to your new life, girl," snarled Erik, leaning off and closing the gap of space between the two of them, the tip of his slender nose almost touching hers. "A night full of lonely regrets. The world out there won't get any better for you or the rest of our kind, love," he sighed, looking away for a minute before turning back towards Madellaine, whose blue eyes were wide with fear. The man let out a low warning growl from the back of his throat as he shoved her up against the pillar even harder, silently enforcing his intended message: Be quiet and be still…or <em>else.</em></p>
<p>She didn't like to think what 'or else' meant in this case, though Madellaine knew she could guess. She winced as he did so, definitely feeling a back muscle pull. The ache was dull as if some lazy torturer were standing right behind her, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance, though, in Madellaine's case, her assailant was in front of her, and not behind her.</p>
<p>The pain just sat there, just to the side of the right shoulder blade, near her spine. Madellaine likened it to lying on a large glass marble. Perhaps at first, it would be pleasant yet soon enough it would ache, just the same.</p>
<p>"Let go of me, you—you witless worm! Both of you!" she screamed, making sure her voice carried and reverberated. She didn't know where <em>that</em> little outburst had come from, but the very words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself, not thinking about the severe gravity of her situation, to which the twins responded by growling through gritted teeth and shoving her hard. <em>Hard</em>. Hard enough that she swore a blood vessel in her arm and shoulder burst.</p>
<p>Wincing in pain, she attempted to grab onto the pillar behind her for support but cried out in pain and quickly lowered her arm from where the twins had grabbed it roughly. Blearily, she lifted her head and tried to focus her gaze a few feet from herself to focus on whatever was happening with the twins just now.</p>
<p>She heard a shout coming from behind her, and the twins’ hands were wrenched off of her shoulders, freeing her of the weight of feeling like she was being crushed. Madellaine wanted to get a glimpse of this mysterious savior, for she could see another figure, albeit hidden in the shadows, had pinned the twins against the stone wall of the cathedral. She could just barely make out a figure.</p>
<p>Madellaine fought to keep her eyes open, the panicked twins’ swift screams that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up having forced her from her state of semi-consciousness for just a brief moment. Through the fog swirling in her mind as the darkness threatened to take her, she could see someone standing in front of her, protecting her.</p>
<p>Madellaine let out a tiny groan as it escaped her lips as she fought to lift her head, and even that throbbed and pounded against the back of her skull from where she had hit her head when Erik and Jakob had grabbed her and slammed her against the wall of the cathedral roughly, bruising her shoulder in the process. God had answered her prayers, it would seem, and had sent her someone.</p>
<p>Oh, how she wanted desperately to look upon her savior's face, though it hurt too much just to lift her head. What little she could see of him, however, was rather, well…odd. For a moment, a surge of hope welled in her chest.</p>
<p><em>Is it Quasi</em>? She wondered but had no time to dwell on the thought. Her consciousness drifted, a horrible ringing in her ears, which muffled the sound of Erik and Jakob’s screams and someone else. Through the darkness as the thick wave of sweet, blissful relief reached for her with its blackened arms outstretched, Madellaine's heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her eardrums, alongside fading pleas for help.</p>
<p>And then…the feeling in her body drained away until all was black.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>11</strong>
</p><p><strong>QUASI</strong> wasn’t sure he could explain away what had happened if his life depended on it, and he was grateful that right now, it didn’t. Surges of adrenaline vented through the man’s veins, causing his breaths to escape him in ragged, panting gasps.</p><p>The last time he had felt so furious was…was…he shuddered as a violent tremor wafted up and down his spine.</p><p>He would rather <em>not</em> think about it if he could help it.</p><p>Quasi had been watching the young blonde from earlier swiftly approaching the cathedral in a hurried manner, her footsteps light but urgent, as though running from something, but once this—this strange <em>creature</em>, had started getting closer to Madellaine, it felt as though a primeval instinct had taken control of his body and he’d begun to emerge from the shadows, no longer giving a damn if this new arrival happened to lay eyes upon his visage or not, as far as he was concerned.</p><p>All it had taken was this man with not one, but two heads, which on a normal day surely would have frightened him, but not this night, to shove the poor girl to the ground for something within the lonesome bell ringer’s countenance to snap and give way to something that lurked within the confines of his broad chest, something dark and festering that he’d not summoned a need for since…the fire, the siege.</p><p> He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut and tearing his gaze away from the alarming image in his mind. Slowly, exhaling a tense breath through his still-flaring nostrils, Quasi lowered his gaze and looked down at the unconscious young girl held close to his chest, almost bridal style. He knew he couldn’t remain out here exposed and in the open, vulnerable like this for too much longer.</p><p>That…that…strange man, no, that wasn’t right, those <em>men</em>, those <em>heads</em> sharing the one body would be sure to wake up soon, and he did not want this girl to be anywhere near their vicinity the moment their eyelids fluttered open and they realized what transpired.</p><p>Quasi knew it was already bad enough they’d <em>seen</em> him. He was sure to expect a visit from the old Archdeacon come the morning, though he wondered if this strange creature, the likes of which he had never seen before, would dare to venture inside the holy walls of the illustrious cathedral.</p><p>He doubted it.  The Archdeacon was sure to be displeased with him come the morning once he learned the truth of what happened, but thoughts of what the old clergyman would think were honestly the furthest thing from the young bell ringer’s frazzled mind at the moment.</p><p>Right now, his first priority was ensuring her safety.  He shifted the girl’s weight in his arms, keeping her cradled close to his chest to distribute her weight better evenly so as to not jostle Madellaine too much. He winced.</p><p>There was no telling how badly she was injured, and so, he did the only thing sensible at the moment. Notre Dame’s bell ringer turned on the heels of his brown leather boots and disappeared swiftly back into the doors of the cathedral, letting them shut behind him with a loud clang.</p><p>Quasi didn’t care who heard. The poor girl was knocked out unconscious, probably would be for a while with how hard she’d hit her head when she’d lost consciousness when she had fallen.</p><p>His lips curled upward into a twisted sneer as he carefully made his way up the stone tower stairwell, mind not to move her too much in the event she had any broken bones he couldn’t see.</p><p>There was no telling what that creature outside would have done to her if he’d not thought to intervene and save her when he had. He could not explain it, how the moment those men had laid their hands on Madellaine, he allowed his wretched vision to see nothing but red as everything else around him faded away into nothingness. The only other time this had happened to him was during his confrontation with Frollo on the balcony a year ago.</p><p>Though the moment he had to use the edge of his boot to kick aside the small wooden door that led to the mezzanine of his bell tower’s loft where the simple man lived, he froze, his face draining in shock, and his tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth.</p><p>His heart thundered vigorously in its cage of bone and cartilage as Quasimodo quickly realized that this was the first woman other than Esmeralda that he was allowing himself to get close to, and to make matters worse, he’d brought her up here, alone, while the two of them admittedly weren’t strangers anymore, the lonesome and nervous man feared that once the young blonde circus performer awoke, she would think his actions most forward of him, considering this would only be the second time that they really would have interacted, but she was <em>injured</em>…</p><p>Quasi stifled a low growl that threatened to escape the confines of his broad chest as he gave his head a vehement shake to rid his mind of the unhelpful thoughts of what she would think.</p><p>It was not about <em>his</em> comfort right now. The <em>girl</em> was the one who was injured, not him.</p><p>Shoving aside thoughts of his growing unease about the unusual and somewhat precarious situation he had placed her in, Quasi gave a nod to himself and it was just enough to summon that minuscule amount of courage that he needed within to allow his feet to carry him over the threshold that separated the stairwell from his tower loft, the girl still held tenderly in his arms, her head lolled back against the crook of his elbow, though he froze when her eyelids fluttered.</p><p>Slowly but surely, her vision cleared, and she opened her eyes, though Madellaine mumbled something unintelligible, though the tiny gasp she gave off instinctively made his grip tight.</p><p>He was growing rapidly concerned at how pale she was becoming, and how deeply set in dark circles her blue eyes were.</p><p>He feared his new friend did not look well at all and had no inkling as to what to do to fix it. He wished Esmeralda were here. “I—it’s all right,” Quasi stammered, cringing as her eyes widened in shock and alarm, though the girl did not immediately begin squirming to wriggle free of his grasp, so he took that to mean a good sign. “I—it’s <em>me</em>,” he muttered, not even sure if she was awake and cognizant enough to remember him from earlier.</p><p>The dark voices in his head chimed up, always picking the wrong moment. <em>Why would she WANT to know you? You’d be LUCKY if she remembers who you are with how hard she hit her head, though it would be for the best if she didn’t remember.</em></p><p>“I…” she trailed off, though her voice sounded faint, weak. Quasi studied Madellaine with a worried frown as his brows furrowed. Holding her in his arms like this, Quasi could feel the way the young blonde’s bones protruded through her pale flesh.</p><p>It was clear that whoever her master was, he or she was only providing the poor thing with enough nourishment to barely sustain herself. She was weakened from near starvation, and he found himself honestly amazed that she’d walked as far as she did.</p><p>“Th—thank you,” Madellaine whispered hoarsely as she rested her head sluggishly against his chest, causing his heart to soar at her words, though the temporary feeling of elation did nothing to quell the nauseous churning pit within his stomach.</p><p>He blinked, startled she’d summoned enough strength to speak. “Y—you’re welcome,” he stammered nervously, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth, shaking. He wished Esmeralda and Phoebus were here. They’d surely know what to do for the young woman better than him.</p><p>Quasi could tell by her violently trembling form that something was indeed wrong, and he knew she was trying to hide it, even as she was rapidly losing consciousness and drifting off. His sense of urgency grew as he wasted no time in carrying her as gently as he could to his sleeping nook, sweeping aside the worn and tattered tarp with one swift motion of his right arm.</p><p>The bell ringer feared she was slipping away and did not know what to do for her, though he didn’t hesitate in gingerly setting her down on top of his makeshift mattress, carefully resting her head against the pillows, hoping that a softer surface would help her.</p><p>It looked like her strength was waning by the second. Her health was in jeopardy, and Quasi feared to move Madellaine for fear of risking making any potential injuries she might have worse. Her eyes were distant when they were open, and every breath she inhaled seemed like a hoarse, raspy gasp.</p><p>He feared he was feeling her slipping away from him, and his guilt consumed him at the thought. If he’d gotten there sooner… Quasi stifled a low growl and shook his head at the thought. <em>No</em>. He could not afford to think like that right now.</p><p>Breathing out a tired and relieved breath, Quasi looked down his nose at the young blonde woman now resting fitfully so on his makeshift mattress, little more than a pile of blankets and a mountain of pillows, but it was going to have to do for now.</p><p>Madellaine was lying on her back, just as he’d placed her, with one arm limply on her stomach, the other resting at her side. Her eyes were half-closed, and when she did look at him, the bright blueness of her pale blue irises had dulled, and glossy.</p><p>Her eyebrows were knitted together in worry. The girl’s mouth, complete with a bleeding cut on her lower lip, was set in a slight pout and the young blonde circus performer was looking quite pale, almost ashen as her skin took on an awful grey tinge.</p><p>Fortunately, he’d taken painstaking care to light several candles in his sleeping nook which served him well to assess what that—that creature that was now probably still lying unconscious near the front steps of Notre Dame, had done to the poor thing. The bell ringer exhaled sharply as he first took a closer peek at the young woman’s breast, a light pink blush speckling along his cheeks, feeling as though he had not earned the right to see her in this light, in such an intimate manner, though it seemed her chest was the location of the most serious of her wounds, and the red, obvious bruises wound around the column of the young woman’s slender throat were obviously finger-shaped markings that made his blood boil and curdle in his veins like sour milk.</p><p>Quasimodo furrowed his eyebrows into a frown. The poor girl must have been utterly terrified, and surely felt pain from it. The young red-haired bell ringer sighed as he closed his eyes for a moment. Madellaine did not deserve any of this at all. Not one bit. Breathing in a steadying breath, Quasi quickly set to work, kicking over a small wooden stool to sit by his bedside while he continued trying to examine the girl as best as he could.</p><p>Running his shaking hands carefully along the skin over Madellaine’s ribs to check for broken bones, Quasi winced as he realized how searing and scalding hot her flesh was. She was burning up. <em>She’s developing a fever</em>, Quasi thought, panicked.</p><p>But it was the least of his concerns at the moment.</p><p>He knew he needed to check for more serious injures before worrying about what was likely a virtually harmless fever, like broken bones. Quasi continued to run his strong fingers over the woman’s ribcage, frowning when the bell ringer noticed just how small and fragile the girl’s bones felt. Nothing appeared broken, thank heaven for that, but if that creature outside had wanted to snap this girl’s little ribs, it would have had no trouble in doing it at all.</p><p>That thing outside could have hurt his new friend so much worse than it actually had, and Quasimodo wasn’t honestly sure why they had held back unless it was just to torment her further.</p><p>Quasi closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath as his nostrils flared. It made him so angry to think of anyone, but especially another man, or—or men, he guessed, in that thing’s case, i<em>t had two head</em>s! —hurting his new friend the way it had.</p><p>Notre Dame’s bell ringer continued his examination, being as gentle as thorough as possible, almost afraid to touch her, for fear Madellaine would shatter upon the first contact. She looked so pale, so delicate, so fragile, as if made from the finest of china.</p><p>Like just one small touch in the wrong way, and she would break, never quite to be made whole again. The thought terrified him, but he forced himself to remain calm. Quasi did not want to let his anger prevent him from doing what really mattered now.</p><p>When Quasimodo ran his still-violently trembling hands over the young woman’s forearms, the poor feverish girl whimpered softly and pulled away from the bell ringer’s tight grip.</p><p>“No…please…don’t…l—let me go…” Madellaine gasped in a tiny, heartbreaking voice as her eyelids flung open and she bolted upright so that she was sitting up, her blue irises cracked and red-rimmed at the edges. She scrambled off the pile of blankets and into the corner of the room. The bell ringer soon found himself staring at the young mademoiselle, whose wide, fear-filled eyes found his worried gaze and stared right back at him in utter awe.</p><p>For a moment, it seemed like Madellaine couldn’t make out what it was that she was looking at, much less discern where she was, for she still looked terrified and her small body trembled.</p><p>“D—don’t <em>touch</em> me!” Madellaine screamed in a weak, shaking voice as she moved one hand out in front of her as though trying to hold Quasi back. “I—I’m <em>not</em> going back there, Jakob!!”</p><p>He gave a start at hearing her call him by the wrong name. For a moment, Quasi felt a surge of white-hot blinding rage fill his insides, searing his insides hotter than the hot molten lead he used to mend various cracks in his beloved brass bells, his loves.</p><p>But then he had to remind himself that she was feverish, that Madellaine did not seem to know who she was talking to now.</p><p>Perhaps her eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the darkness. Either way, Quasi knew he had to try to get the girl to calm down.</p><p>“M—Madellaine, I—it’s <em>me</em>, I…we—we met this afternoon, milady, don’t you know who I am?” Quasi spoke in as calm a voice as his soft, tenor-like tone could manage, though he felt anything but. In fact, he was quite furious, not at Madellaine, of course, but at that thing outside that he’d been forced to beat within an inch of its life and had likely at least broken a few bones in the process.</p><p>He wanted to reach out his hand and offer some form of physical comfort to the terrified, trembling, petite little blonde in front of him, now cowering in the corner, away from him, but in no way did he want to frighten his new friend further than she already so clearly was, so he kept his distance and continued trying to speak reassuring words, though he was feeling highly out of his element, wishing Esmeralda were here.</p><p>“Quasi?” Madellaine squeaked in an uncertain and heart-breaking weak voice before practically scrambling upright to her feet, flinging herself from the corner of his simple sleeping nook and putting one of her arms around the bell ringer, in a sort of half-hug.</p><p>His eyes widened in shock and surprise, too stunned for the moment to process what was happening to him in the second.</p><p>Not surprisingly, Notre Dame’s bell ringer froze like a startled deer caught in the sights of an arrow. The only other woman to have hugged him like this had been Esmeralda, and she was just a friend. But yet, Quasi could not bring himself to pull away. With an expression of utmost shock, he stared at Madellaine, taking in the details of her feverish appearance, selfishly wondering if, when she was healed, she’d remember it.</p><p><em>Hugging</em> him. <em>Touching</em> him and not seeming at all <em>frightened</em> by him. This was…new for him, and Quasi was not sure how to react to this revelation. Her tear-streaked face pressed into the fabric of his thick green woolen tunic, scratchy though it was, and sobbed, and this finally caused the light to ignite behind his eyes.</p><p>Something to click in the confused man’s brain that allowed him to react, his strong, broad arms moving of their own volition as he wrapped his arms around the distraught young woman and drew her close, her fingers digging into the back of his shirt for support, and in response, he slipped his lids closed in pure, unadulterated bliss, forgetting the fact that she was injured, that the girl was likely in shock, that she had a fever needed bringing down, simply content to bask in the young woman’s warmth.</p><p>Quasimodo honestly had no clue what to say to her or do. He felt nothing but wracked with disappointment, guilt, anger, and heartbreak, a myriad of emotions that threatened to consume him. This…what happened to her tonight shouldn’t have happened. He—he should have been <em>faster</em>, done more to <em>help</em>.</p><p>Though the young man had little time to dwell on his feelings of guilt. Madellaine continued sobbing into his right shoulder, her salty tears now soaking his tunic, but he couldn’t manage to bring himself to even pretend to care at this point.</p><p>All he knew was that someone who had gone out of her way to be kind to him today was suffering, <em>sick</em>, and he needed to help her recuperate and be safe. The girl’s entire body wracked with her sobs and hysterical breaths. Quasi hugged her tighter, closer. She must have been so scared. He almost dreaded asking his new friend what that thing outside had done to her, then, as he was sure that any details she chose to share would break his heart.</p><p>Of course, he was going to have to ask her eventually, to be sure any injuries the young woman had received were properly cared for and treated, but for now, he just needed to focus on calming the poor girl down before she hurt herself in her hysteria. Madellaine’s frantic, gasping breaths and heart-breaking sobs to listen to that very nearly made his own heart cry out in the process were not going to help the situation right now at all, then.</p><p>“I—it’s all right, Madellaine,” he murmured awkwardly, attempting to reassure his friend as he gingerly put his hand softly on the girl’s back and held her close, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in the pit of his churning stomach at holding his friend in such an intimate manner, and she did not pull away at all as he half-expected that she would, to explain away her slip in balance.</p><p>Quasimodo was not sure if Madellaine’s tears that slipped relentlessly from the edges of her eyes were a result of fear, pain, or a combination of the three, or perhaps she cried for something else entirely. Either way, it was more than enough to cause his heart to give a murmur and his stomach to churn at the thought.</p><p>All he knew for certain with confidence was that he wanted to take away whatever feelings were causing his friend such pains. Madellaine needed to know that Quasi would be there to help her heal from whatever horrible torture she’d just endured.</p><p>The girl’s shoulders shook badly as another choked, pitiful sob, halfway muffled by the bell ringer’s shoulder, echoed softly throughout his dimly lit, tiny sleeping nook. Her cries sounded so pained, and Quasi found himself swallowing a lump in his throat.</p><p>“Quasi?” Madellaine managed to whimper in between cries and frantic, shaking breaths. If the girl had intended to say more, she certainly never managed to get around to doing so, as uncontrollable sobs followed. “I…y—you saved my <em>life</em>, I...”</p><p>“Y—you’re going to be all right,” he stammered throughout his promise, raking his fingers gently through her shorn blonde locks. “I—I’m not going anywhere,” he added soothingly when he felt Madellaine cling to him almost desperately, as though afraid the bell ringer would vanish at any moment, as if by witchcraft.</p><p>They sat like this for a few minutes, with the girl clinging to Quasi as though letting go in a little would result in her being left all alone, and the only thing he could do was offer gentle, reassuring words and a secure yet soft embrace as she cried into his tunic that was quite literally drenched with her tears now.</p><p>Quasi had thought that for a moment when he’d landed at the bottom of the cathedral that the sweet young woman who he’d had the genuine pleasure of interacting with today had been killed, and Notre Dame’s bell ringer was not soon to forget the horrible, sickening feeling of dread when he first laid eyes on her.</p><p>That cold, sinking feeling that that thing outside had hurt her, that perhaps his new friend would never draw in-breath again. It was a crushing, awful, terrible, dreadful feeling.</p><p>Quasi was not angry with Madellaine for wandering the streets of Paris alone after dark without an escort, if only for any other reason than for the fact that the young woman had scared him so much. That was a fear that he never wanted to face again.</p><p>He thought it strange and odd for him to make a connection so quickly, but he couldn’t <em>help</em> it, could he explain.</p><p>But he decided at the moment that he did not care.</p><p>Before his courage and resolve could falter and fail him, he leaned forward slightly in their embrace and whispered into the shell of her right ear, a private moment between the two new friends locked away from the rest of the world that meant them harm.</p><p>“I promise, my friend…as long as I’m alive, I’ll not let anything happen to you.” And this time, he aimed to keep that promise as he held her.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>11</strong>
</p><p><strong>THE</strong> pain was nothing compared to the warmth as Quasi held her, though it seemed to take Madellaine an eternity to taper down her near-hysterical sobs until they tapered to sniffles that she was reduced to wiping at her red-tipped nose with the sleeve of her dress. Her hysterical breaths calmed down after a second.</p><p>For a moment, Quasi wondered if his friend had cried herself to sleep. He hesitated, not wanting to relinquish his arms from the warm embrace, though the dark voices inside of his mind never again failed to torment him at the wrong moment.</p><p><em>Damn</em> them. <em>She doesn’t really like you</em>, the snakelike voice taunted, which sounded too much like Master Frollo’s familiar admonishing rumbling baritone for Quasimodo’s comfort now. <em>She’s probably just being nice, but she’s repulsed by you. After all, what hope could an accursed wretch like you have</em>?</p><p>Growing increasingly annoyed with the demonic voices whispering thoughts of malice to inspire self-hatred and a vicious torpid whirl of loathing in his mind that he needed no help from Master Frollo’s conscience in his mind, he let out a low growl.</p><p>The voices immediately silenced, though this gesture did not come without its consequences as he felt Madellaine in his arms give a start upon hearing the low, almost animalistic growl erupt forth from deep within the confines of his broad chest.</p><p>“I—s-<em>sorry</em>,” he stammered. “I—it wasn’t directed at <em>you</em>,” he whispered in a faint voice, still feeling justified in keeping his arms where they were, realizing that she wore no cloak to keep her warm from the bitter cold of the elements as night had fallen.</p><p>Quasi would have gotten up and fetched a spare blanket for her, though something deep within the recesses of his mind told him that Madellaine would not take the separation well at all, so he stayed rooted on the floor, kneeling in a crouch, uncomfortable though it was, enveloping the young circus performer in a gentle and tender, though awkward hug, and hopefully warmed her up a bit in the process. He could still feel the girl trembling in his arms.</p><p>He pulled apart after a moment and pushed Madellaine’s sleeves of her ivory short-sleeved chemise underneath her dark forest green overdress as gently as his friend still stayed silent. “I—it doesn’t look like anything is broken, s—so that’s good news,” Quasi spoke, stumbling a bit over his words as he ran his shaking fingers over the young woman’s wrists and forearms, “though I—I can see bruises coming up on your skin already.”</p><p>Madellaine shrugged, something within her distraught expression shifting. “I—I’m okay, Quasi,” she said with a sigh, but still refused to meet the bell ringer’s piercing glacier-cold glower. She didn’t want to risk becoming emotional in front of the man.</p><p>Speaking too much about this would probably only result in more tears and she had embarrassed herself enough by this point.</p><p>Quasi bit the wall of his cheek, wondering if he should even ask, and yet, his curiosity won out in the end, and the question tumbled unchecked from his lips before he could stop himself.</p><p>“Wh—what was that <em>thing</em> outside? What <em>happened</em>, Madellaine?” Quasi wondered as he shifted to sit cross-legged in front of the young blonde. The bell ringer awkwardly put his strong hand on Madellaine de Barreau’s bony knee and leaned forward to make eye-contact with the skittish young woman.</p><p>Madellaine considered turning her head away, so she wouldn’t have to look into her kind new friend’s eyes, burning bright with a dozen flitting unasked questions in his irises, she could see it for herself. Quasimodo’s care and concern over her well-being when she knew she did not deserve it, considering what Sarousch had sent her here to accomplish, might just break the fragile hold the young circus performer had on her emotions.</p><p>But then again, the blonde felt not meeting the bell ringer’s gaze would only make things even more awkward, and it would only succeed in worrying Quasi even more than he already was, and after all that he had done to help her, saving her life from Erik and Jakob, she did not want to stress him out, so she lifted her chin, forcing herself reluctantly to meet the red-haired man’s gaze and forced a twitching, spasmodic smile that Madellaine really did not feel was genuine at all, and she could tell the man had seen it.</p><p>“I—I’m <em>fine</em>, Quasi, honest to God,” Madellaine lied through her teeth, making her feel even more wretched to lie on Holy Ground, and yet, could not bring herself to tell him the truth.</p><p>Quasi furrowed his brows in a frown and shot the girl a pointed look. He did not look at all convinced by her words.</p><p>“I could tell those men were <em>hurting</em> you, Madellaine, a—and they had <em>no</em> right,” he growled through gritted teeth, as a darkening shadow cast by one of the lights from the candle flames danced across his slightly misshapen face.</p><p>In his growing anger, it made the man look even more frightening than he actually was, and Madellaine hated that her body stiffened by way of a response.</p><p>Quasi continued, not wanting to press the issue with her and yet feeling like it was imperative that he do so. “I—I know that you don’t <em>want</em> to talk about it, b—but…there’s no point in trying to cover it up. I—I can <em>see</em> that those men <em>did</em> something to you.”</p><p>Notre Dame’s bell ringer reached towards the circus performer’s cheek, causing the blonde to flinch away slightly.</p><p>Quasimodo froze in place for a moment, warring between the urge to be angry that she had shirked away from him or sympathetic to what she had just very narrowly escaped were it not for him. In the end, he decided that he could not be mad at her as he looked into his new friend’s wide, pale blue eyes before touching the pads of his fingertips gently to the girl’s grey-tinged, feverish face, wiping away the last remnants of the girl’s tears.</p><p>“Y—your tears give you away, Madellaine,” he said softly.</p><p>Madellaine exhaled a deep, shuddering breath as she ducked her head in shame at those words. “E—Erik and Jakob,” she whispered in a hushed, faint voice, slowly lifting her head after several minutes of actively avoiding the man’s gaze. Sensing his confusion by the way his eyebrows were raised at her, she quickly elaborated. “The—the twins outside. They’re ah, part of the circus that I belong to. They…share a body but…<em>well</em>…”</p><p>Her voice trailed off as she was unsure of how to continue and instead began gesticulating with her hands to her head, trying to silently convey her message while not insulting the twins.</p><p>“Two heads,” Quasi finished for her, slowly nodding, though his soft, tenor-like tone still sounded thoroughly disgusted, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a little bit awestruck.</p><p>Madellaine inclined her head, swallowing down past the lump in her throat, and looked away from her new friend for a moment in the hopes of composing herself. She supposed she ought to be grateful, that she should mold her features into a mask of relief or gratitude, and yet, she couldn’t summon the strength, though she felt it.</p><p>She was sure if it were any of the other women in Sarousch’s troupe, it wouldn’t have happened to anyone else. Sarousch wouldn’t threaten Violet or Tandy the way he did <em>her</em>. He surely wouldn’t force Violet or Tandy to seduce the man now kneeling into a crouch in front of her, the only crime the church’s bell ringer having committed was caring too much. For <em>her</em>. She felt a tremor of disgust go down her spine.</p><p>She did not deserve Quasi’s unfailing kindness nor his generosity. Yes, she was sure this whole mess could have only happened to her. Madellaine was the one who stood out in Sarousch’s circus, the weak link who did not belong, the prettiest ornament on the midway, the only ‘normal’ one in the group.</p><p>Even when Madellaine had thought she had found her place among the rest of the troupe, it was clear she was different from the other girls. Violet and Tandy, both fortune tellers and palm readers, laughed at her for her hair, how short it was, falling in stray wisps and choppy layers to just above her chin, though the result of which was falling under one of Sarousch’s foul moods after failing to miss her cue to appear at his side on stage, which had resulted in a lashing and him taking a knife to her long hair.</p><p>The beating had hurt worse than him cutting off her hair that Madellaine had spent years growing. She vowed that day to never have long hair again if she could help it.<em> Never again… </em>Almost instinctively, the blonde felt her hand drift up to rub gingerly at the back of her neck where there ought to have been hair, and instead of feeling the cool, drafty breeze that wafted through this simple little room that looked to be his bedroom.</p><p>She blinked at the revelation, though quickly shook her head, tucking back a wisp of blonde hair behind her left ear.</p><p>It was a topic of insecurity for her, though she tried her hardest not to let her mind dwell on the horrible memory of it.</p><p>She was always in danger of Sarousch changing his mind and deciding her natural beauty, her prettiness had run its course, and the man no longer having a use for her, and tossing her right back into the streets to fend for herself, just as he’d found her. Madellaine couldn’t defend herself as Violet and Tandy could. She wasn’t witty, wasn’t outspoken and bold or handy with a blade. The girls never failed to make Madellaine feel excluded.</p><p>About the only one who even had a remotely kind word for her was old Baba Yaga, and even then, that was only sometimes. The young blonde circus performer held her breath and tried to stay calm, but her emotions were slowly bubbling to the surface and threatening to boil over if she couldn’t handle it.</p><p>Jakob and Erik had <em>scared</em> her tonight, as loathed as she was to admit it. She’d thought she could handle it, having always brushed off their unwanted advances before, though this time, she realized it was different. Tonight was admittedly the first night they’d not been under the scrutinizing and watchful eye of their master. With Sarousch nowhere in sight, they’d grown reckless.</p><p>No matter why those wretched twins had done hurt her, Madellaine still felt betrayed. The blonde circus performer kept her gaze fixated on the ground as she struggled to keep her pent-up emotions from boiling over, not wanting Quasimodo to see it.</p><p>She refused to make eye contact with the bell ringer yet again, as she was confident her features would betray her emotional anguish, and she didn’t want to explain herself to him. Though her new friend’s soft, tenor-like tones rent the heavy, uncomfortable silence of the room they rested in, startling her, and bringing her back down to earth, out of her wicked thoughts of horrible visions of the twins suffering at <em>his</em> hand.</p><p>There was an ugly side of her that wished Quasi would have <em>killed</em> them outside while he’d had the chance, and—and— “Madellaine?” Quasi spoke in a soft, concerned voice, putting his strong, gloved hand lightly on Madellaine’s shoulder.</p><p>She did not answer as she focused on keeping yet more wretched tears suppressed, swallowing a lump in her throat. She had bloody well cried enough. No more, oh, no more…</p><p>“Madellaine…are you <em>hurt</em>?” he continued, not aware that the unfailing kindness he was currently exhibiting felt like a stab in the heart to the young blonde. Rudeness, brazenness, these were all things the woman could deal with and did on the regular.</p><p>But in her current physically weakened and emotionally vulnerable state, the man’s kindness, and soft words felt like a dagger piercing straight through to her heart, twisting in deeply.</p><p>“If you’re <em>hurt</em>, I—I need you to <em>tell</em> me. I—it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he urged, his soft tenor voice sounding desperate. “I—I can try my best to mend any I—injuries you might have. I could see he was <em>hurting</em> you outside, and I could even go so far as to guess that judging by the fact that you’re crying that his harsh grip wasn’t <em>all</em> those twins threatened you with. What did they <em>do</em>?” There was just a hint of steel throughout his otherwise quiet, reserved voice that suggested to the blonde her new friend was growing angry, though hopefully not at her, but at the twins.</p><p>Madellaine felt her bottom lip quiver violently as she contemplated answering Quasi’s questions. Yes, her arms and wrists did hurt, they felt numb and tingly, as it so happened, but she knew they weren’t sprained or broken. She would know it.</p><p>The twins had tugged and pulled at her arms quite harshly, probably near enough to dislocate both of her shoulders if they were of a mind to, but not quite. Erik and Jakob knew the world of hurt they would be in if Sarousch were to see his ‘prettiest trinket’ roughed up to the point where she couldn’t join him on the stage.</p><p>There was a sick, sadistic part of her mind wished she could be a fly on the wall for that little pleasant conversation.</p><p>Madellaine’s cheeks and her jaw hurt from where they’d roughly groped at her face, but the only marks the girl would bear from it would be her bruises, which even then, their master was sure to dislike. No amount of makeup would cover these marks.</p><p>Nor the black eye one of them had given her. Though it was the harshest anyone had handled the poor tiny circus performer, it was nothing that she didn’t think Quasimodo could mend, no matter how much he appeared to want to. And her emotional pain at what had almost transpired was far worse and far more impossible to quell, the scars she would carry with as her burden.</p><p>“Y—you’re <em>shaking</em>, milady,” Quasi stammered, scooting closer, still maintaining his kneeling position so he could better look into the blonde’s eyes. With that, Madellaine could no longer repress the emotions pent up inside of her constricting chest.</p><p>With a pained sob, she reached out to her friend, who seemed startled by the unexpected gesture of her nearness, yet gladly enveloped the young woman into another hug, rubbing soft circles on her back and speaking soothing words in a hushed tone.</p><p>“Y—you’re <em>safe</em> now. Y—you can claim sanctuary here. Those men outside, a—and anyone else who tries to hurt you can’t touch you as long as you’re in here. You could stay if you want. No one will hurt you as long as you’re mine,” Quasi whispered and then felt his blue eyes widen in shock as he heard her audible gasp of surprise as she pulled back immediately from their embrace.</p><p>He swallowed hard and immediately stammered, tripping over his words trying to correct himself. “I—I meant th—that, a—as long as you’re my <em>friend</em>, for h—however long your troupe stays in Paris.” There was a beat. A pause. Oh, <em>God</em>, could tonight possibly get <em>any more</em> awkward for him? He sincerely hoped not.</p><p>Madellaine’s almond-shaped blue eyes were wide and brimming with an unidentified emotion that Quasi couldn’t place. He wasn’t sure he could name it even if someone held his throat at knifepoint over it. He was glad this was not the case.</p><p>When Madellaine still didn’t move to speak, merely continued to stare at him with such an intense, burning yet icy gaze that was beginning to make him feel rather claustrophobic, Quasi swallowed down hard past the lump in his throat and continued to try to offer his newfound friend some words of comfort.</p><p>“Y—you have every right to feel upset and hurt, Madellaine, o—over what happened to you. No matter <em>what</em> those men outside tried to do to you, what they might have said, th—this is in <em>no</em> way <em>any</em> fault of yours. E—everything will work out.”</p><p>Madellaine sniffed as she struggled to compose herself, but the moment she opened her mouth to speak, her crying became even more unmanageable. Telling Quasi what had transpired would, in a bad way, be reliving the whole event, but she knew she needed to talk this out, to reassure herself in some way, however small, that she had not deserved this, though she was reluctantly going along with Sarousch’s plan to coerce the man to leave this place, to come to their circus, where Sarousch would take him…</p><p>She squeezed her eyes shut, giving her head a vehement little shake, wanting to rid her mind of the unpleasant image. She knew she could not let that happen, no matter what. She would just have to think of some other way to help this man.</p><p>“H—they shoved me over and over, the—the twins,” Madellaine spoke in between shaking sobs as she reluctantly allowed Notre Dame’s bell ringer to hold her close as the man listened to the young woman’s words as she recounted her tale. “And I kept trying to get them away from me,” she sobbed again. “But they wouldn’t <em>listen</em>, a—and it just made them angrier.”</p><p>She sniffed back her tears, wiping at the edge of her now-reddened nose with the sleeve of her ivory chemise. She let out a tired sigh, her fatigue and sickness catching up with her as she rested her head against Quasimodo’s broad chest and breathed in steady, albeit shaking breaths. “I—I’m <em>sick</em> of all this. I—I…”</p><p>But her voice trailed off and she couldn’t manage to bring her thought to completion, closing her eyes shut as her lids felt heavy, and it was growing more and more difficult to stay awake. It was only then that she realized just how exhausted she was.</p><p>She’d not slept much in the last several days, and Madellaine was unable to suppress a huge yawn as she thought about this.</p><p>Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed by the bell ringer, who, she couldn’t be sure, considering her vision around her was slowly blurring and fading at the edges, and the man’s voice was becoming faint, but she swore she thought she heard him chuckle.</p><p>“Y—you’re going to be all right. You’ll be safe here. W—would you like me to take you downstairs? The—they have spare rooms in one of the cloister cells. Th—they’re small and cramped, b—but you’ll be safe here. You can claim sanctuary and stay here.”</p><p><em>With me</em>, is what Quasi itched to say, he could feel the words burning on the tip of his tongue, though not wanting to scare her away, by some miracle of God Himself, he refrained.</p><p>But before Quasi could stand up straight and turn on his heels to leave her to inform the Archdeacon the cathedral had a new refuge, Madellaine shook her head and her fingers curled even tighter around his bicep, effectively preventing him from taking another step forward.</p><p>“<em>No</em>…” she begged desperately, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. She really didn’t want to be left alone. What if the twins regained consciousness and found her? “C—could you stay with me a little while longer?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t overstepping a boundary by asking. “<em>Please</em>?”</p><p>He nodded, a tiny ghost of a smile flitting across his face as he looked down his nose at the young blonde and hugged her closer.</p><p>“O—of course,” he stammered, his iron grip tightening.</p><p>For a while, Quasi was silent, staring down at his trembling gloved hands as his own fingers latched onto the material of her chemise and green overdress for support. He hoped the girl couldn’t feel how violently his hands were shaking, but aside from Esmeralda, Madellaine de Barreau was the first woman who he had admittedly hugged like this before, her suffering notwithstanding. Then suddenly, desperate to clear the silence between them, he awkwardly cleared her throat.</p><p>“Um,” he began casually, almost too casually in Madellaine’s opinion as he pulled back, albeit reluctantly so, from their embrace to look at her, though the man seemed to have trouble meeting her gaze, “You’re welcome to—to stay up here w—with me, that is, I—if you wouldn’t mind helping me,” he began hesitantly, biting his lip. Madellaine blinked owlishly up at the bell ringer n shock, prompting him to continue to try to quell his embarrassment and hot, sudden shame that marred his face. “I—there’s a lot of work to—to be done in—in the tower here, a—and between my list of chores that I already have a—and keeping up with ringing the bells, th—there’s not nearly enough time to do it all. I’m a hard worker, but I can’t do it all in one day. If I had another pair of hands to help me, it would go by much faster, a—and you and I could have more time to…to <em>talk</em>,” he said lamely.</p><p>“<em>Stay</em>?” Madellaine repeated in disbelief, feeling quite certain she had misheard as she looked around the man’s sleeping nook once or twice before returning her gaze to him. “You mean…stay <em>here</em>? In your tower? With…with <em>you</em>, monsieur?”</p><p><em>Monsieur</em>. He almost gave a start at her words, though he quickly hid his shock and nodded, hoping he wasn’t coming across as too eager.</p><p>“W—well, yes…of course. Where <em>else</em> would you stay, mademoiselle?” He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed at the back of his neck gingerly before peeling off his leather hide gloves and chucking them in the corner of his room, rolling his wrists to crack them. He let out a nervous breath as he ran his hands through his fiery mop of red hair. “I—I don’t think it is a good idea to have you go back to wherever you came from, milady. Not with that—that <em>thing</em> after you. I—I don’t want you to get <em>hurt</em>, my friend,” he added, a dark look of rage briefly flitting across his features before his expression softened as he looked at her. “I—I think it’s best if you stay here. C—close to me, where I can keep an eye on you. K—keep you <em>safe</em>,” he stammered, biting at his lip.</p><p>Madellaine paused, considering his offer in silence for a moment and weighing the pros and cons. On one hand, Sarousch was going to be downright bloody furious with her when she did not return, yet on the other hand, it meant that she might be <em>free</em>.</p><p><em>And you’d get to spend more time with him, when you know it’s what you want</em>, her conscience chirped up in a giddy voice at the back of her mind, though she furrowed her brows.</p><p>But sensing the young man’s face quickly becoming crestfallen at seeing her frown, thinking she was about to say no and reject his kind offer, Madellaine quickly gave her head a shake, and instantly, the voices inside her mind quickly fell silent.</p><p>“I’d love to, Quasi. I accept,” she said shyly, smiling faintly at him. She was briefly tempted to take his hand but resisted the urge.</p><p>Though it was increasingly harder to resist doing so the moment the man lifted his chin and his intense gaze met hers. The man’s pale face remained impassive and calm for a moment, before breaking out into the warmest smile she thought she had ever seen. “I was hoping you would say that,” he replied.</p><p>To express her gratitude, she hugged him tighter, though her good mood at realizing she didn’t have to go back to Sarousch’s stupid campsite quickly dissipated the moment the blonde realized he was sure to send a few of his men to look for her. The man might even be so angry that he’d come himself.</p><p>She shuddered at that thought. “I—I wish I were stronger,” Madellaine sighed as she reluctantly loosened her fingers from the man’s thick woolen tunic, now content that she was not about to be left alone in an admittedly strange place to fend all for herself.</p><p>Quasi furrowed his brows in a frown, not liking it when his new friend talked down about herself in such a self-deprecating way. “You’re certainly stronger than most women I know. N—not that I know a lot of them,” he stammered, noticing her confused look. “N—no expects you to be a—a warrior, Madellaine. I know our world is not particularly kind to women, b-but I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of for what happened,” he said.</p><p>“The twins have never made any of the other girls in our troupe cry as I did,” Madellaine answered bitterly, frowning. “I’m sure I must have looked <em>ridiculous</em>,” she almost wailed.</p><p>Quasi offered a small, sardonic little chuckle before he could stop himself. “Something tells me you aren’t the first person to be brought to tears by those…those men’s reactions as of late. If that’s how that <em>creature</em> goes around treating women, I don’t blame you for reacting the way you did,” he growled darkly, almost sounding angry, though not with Madellaine, she knew. “I—I can promise you that I don’t think any less of you for that.”</p><p>Madellaine smiled weakly, though it did not reach her hollowed eyes. “Thanks for defending me, Quasi,” Madellaine spoke as she closed her tired eyes. “You’re…such a good friend.”</p><p>A <em>friend</em>. He was…her friend now. His heart soared upon hearing the blonde call him a friend, as a tiny smile tugged the corners of his mouth upward in a smile.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Quasi murmured softly, lowering his voice an octave as he could sense the young woman was growing weaker and more tired. Without waiting for permission, he grabbed her underneath her forearms and as gently as he could, hauled the young woman to her feet and guided her towards his makeshift bed. Little more than a pile of blankets and a mountain of pillows, but he hoped that she would be comfortable enough here tonight.</p><p>He would find the Archdeacon in a little while if the clergyman were still up and see what could be done about procuring extra blankets and more pillows for him so he could sleep nearby her in the event the girl ran into more trouble again.</p><p><em>And what can be done about her fever,</em> a voice in his head reminded him, and suddenly, Quasi felt guilty. He’d almost forgotten that she was looking quite ill. The circles underneath both her eyes were looking darker and more pronounced, sunken in and hollow, and a sheen of sweat had started throng along the front and sides of her temples, slowly dripping down the graceful slope of her temple.<em> Damn it.</em> He had almost forgotten about it.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Quasi told Madellaine softly as he gingerly rubbed at her arm, perching himself on the edge of the makeshift cot, hoping his nearness would be of a small modicum of comfort. “I’m going to look after you,” he promised her in a low murmur.</p><p>Madellaine sighed a content breath, still keeping her eyes closed, allowing her head to loll back against the mountain of pillows. “Thank you, Quasi,” she whispered again in a tiny voice as the young woman slowly felt sleep overcoming her. She didn’t fight it.</p><p>The man held the young woman close until she finally gave in to her exhaustion, and everything around her faded to darkness. Her first tranquil sleep in ages, for the first night in several years as it so happened, she did not dream of Sarousch, of the dark demon that waited in the shadows to punish her. No.</p><p>That night, she dreamed of the bell ringer of Notre Dame.</p>
<hr/><p><strong>QUASIMODO</strong> frowned as he looked down at the little blonde woman nestled beneath the blankets and breathing softly, now calmer. His small friend seemed to have steadily fallen asleep a few minutes ago. Madellaine had mostly gone limp and seemed to burrow underneath the mossy green duvet that he’d found for her.</p><p>She looked so <em>calm</em>, almost at peace while she slept, and just as pretty. Out of everyone in this entire city who could have been shown the ugliest side of mankind, Madellaine was the worst possible candidate. He didn’t like to admit to himself, though now that he was a free man, liberated from Frollo’s ironclad rule given the man was dead now, he’d gotten an inkling of the personalities of the women that lived in the city of Paris, most of them headstrong and feisty. He could picture many women simply walking away from that creature outside if that thing had treated them as it had treated the blonde circus performer a while ago.</p><p>Some women might have yelled back at it, or even fought. But Madellaine seemed to have tried talking as a form of reasoning, thinking that perhaps it would calm the thing down.</p><p>The girl claimed she had never fought back against its grip. She just kept trying to talk sense into the accursed wretch, having faith that her fellow compatriot in Sarousch’s circus, no matter how angry those twins were, wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on her. But Madellaine couldn’t have been more wrong in that regard.</p><p>He had not known her long, but he could already tell the young mademoiselle was a woman who had the tendency and gift to see the best in her friends and other folks around her, and to trust them, perhaps naively and blindly so, with her well-being, had caused her to feel a horrible betrayal no one should ever feel.</p><p>Quasi was pulled from his thoughts as he glanced down at the young woman as Madellaine emitted a small, whimpering noise from the back of her throat and curled herself into an even smaller ball than she had already contorted herself into beneath the blankets, shivering, though whether it was from some unseen nightmare behind her closed lids or a byproduct of her fever, he didn’t know. The towering bell ringer frowned, searching the sleeping girl’s ashen features, kneeling down closer to her face.</p><p>Madellaine’s brow was furrowed and she was frowning in her sleep. Letting out a slightly shaky sigh, Quasi put his hand as lightly as he could on the girl’s shoulder, hoping to offer his friend some small measure of comfort in her tortured and uneasy sleep.</p><p>As much as Quasi would have liked to remain in his sleeping nook with Madellaine, he needed to ensure what could be done to bring down her fever and that things were going well outside the confines of his north tower loft. What about that thing? Was it still outside? Had it woken up yet? And the Archdeacon would need to be made aware of their new refuge.</p><p>Quasi needed to be informed, and the girl needed medicines, lest the fever raging within was sure to consume her.</p><p>Unfortunately, it meant he would have to leave Madellaine in here by herself for a little while, but with any luck, the young woman would remain asleep and would never know the bell ringer had managed to slip away into the shadows to get help.</p><p>Madellaine twitched slightly and moved her hand weakly in front of herself as though grasping for something in front of her.</p><p>Quasimodo frowned as he watched her shaking but cautious movements. Did the girl know he was gone already? The man felt his shoulders slump forward in disappointment as he could see a nasty-looking welt, a bruise already beginning to purple forming around the woman’s jaw.</p><p>That was…<em>awful</em>, and it was more than enough to re-ignite the burning rage within his veins, hotter than the molten lead he used to fix the cracks in his beloved brass bells, this time returning with a vengeance. There was a part of him that hoped that creature outside had fled by the time he went outside to check, otherwise he might very well just kill it in his anger.</p><p>Any creature who would beat a helpless young woman, let alone one so kind and beautiful as his friend did not deserve to draw in another breath. What if that <em>thing</em> did it to someone else?</p><p>Quasi drew in a shuddering breath as he put his fingers lightly on Madellaine’s cheek. Those twins must have hit her hard.</p><p>The girl whimpered as she flinched away from his tender touch, though the pads of his fingertips had barely grazed the surface of the welt. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and curled even further into a ball, her shaking hands clutching at fistfuls of what blankets she could manage to reach. “No…I—I’m <em>sorry</em>…m—master, d—<em>don’t</em>…I can…get him…just let me… <em>go</em>…”</p><p>“Shh.” Quasi shushed her, putting his tempered hand lightly on Madellaine’s shoulder in the hopes of rousing her out of whatever horrific nightmare she was experiencing. “It’s all right.”</p><p>Madellaine’s eyes fluttered open as the smooth, melodious sounds of the man’s soft, reserved voice flitted to her eardrums, but she still looked confused for a moment. “Quasimodo?” she whispered in a small, hoarse voice still groggy from being roused from sleep, blinking her lids to rid them from the crusted sleep that accumulated at the edges of her eyes when she fell asleep.</p><p>He nodded. “Aye.” Quasi smiled down at her. “You’re alright. I—it was just a dream. You were dreaming. Go back to sleep.”</p><p>Madellaine stared at him, having to prop herself up on her elbow to get a better look. “A—are you <em>leaving</em>?” she asked. Her voice was almost shaking, and practically broke the man’s heart.</p><p>Quasi sucked in a sharp breath of cool air. “No,” he lied and hating the fact that he had to lie to her, kneeling down in front of the young woman and putting his hand on her arm. “I was just looking for another blanket for you…” God, he <em>hated</em> lying…</p><p>“Oh.” Madellaine yawned and collapsed back against the blankets and closed her eyes. “Good. Please don’t leave me,” she added in a sleep-filled, tired mumble that was heart-wrenching.</p><p>He waited, one minute, two minutes, three minutes, however long it was, keeping his back turned towards her until he heard the soft, steady rhythmic sound of her breathing and he did not even have to look behind him to know that she was asleep.</p><p>Finally, Quasi held his breath and turned around. He observed the woman for a moment, but Madellaine did not seem to be awake any longer.</p><p>“Madellaine?” Quasi whispered uncertainly. When he received no answer from the circus performer, he carefully made his way towards the curtain that he had hung up in his sleeping nook on a rod for privacy, opening it slowly and carefully sliding it back into place as quietly as possible. Madellaine would be fine without him for a while as he sorted through things out here, and hopefully, he prayed, the girl would not wake up again until after he had returned to her.</p><p>Poor thing, he thought, as he swiftly but slowly made his way down the stone stairwell that would take him to the main level of the sanctuary in search of one of the nuns or the Archdeacon. He had so many burning questions running through his mind for her when she woke up and was of a better mindset to answer them, and he wasn’t sure how to give these questions a voice. What unimaginable hell had she been through in her life?</p><p><em>Why</em>, more importantly, had the girl come to the cathedral in the middle of the night when she knew bloody well how dangerous it was to be out alone with no escort after the curfew? And <em>why</em> was he left with a strange warmth in the pit of his churning stomach, even after she had left his presence earlier?</p><p>What <em>was</em> this? <em>Who are you</em>? He silently asked her inside his mind, willing the girl to tell him the truth as soon as she was well. The moment he stepped off the bottommost step of the stairwell that led up into his tower, the lonesome man paused.</p><p>He did not want to leave the girl’s side, even for a split second in case her fever worsened, or she awoke to discover that he had not, as it so happened, kept his promise, and stayed by her side, but there were certain things he needed to do for the girl.</p><p>Quasi let a haggard sigh escape his cracked lips as he cast a wary glance over his shoulder, wishing he could turn on his heels and bolt back up the stairwell and promise not to leave her side.</p><p>It was almost unbearable and too much for him to grasp that he, alongside Victor, Hugo, and Laverne were no longer the only living thing in his space. Madellaine looked so hurt, so helpless. Just as the girl’s beauty had earlier when he’d first laid eyes on the young blonde mademoiselle, it tugged at his heart.</p><p>He knew he did not want to see her or anybody else that was kind to him for that matter in that sort of discomfort, ever.</p><p>Quasi knew from their previous encounter earlier today, not one to soon forget how the young blonde circus performer had looked upon his face without fear, that he would do whatever it would take on his part to protect his new friend and keep her safe.</p><p>But…first things first, he had to find the Archdeacon or one of the sisters of the faith in order to notify the caretakers of the church of the young woman’s presence and state her claim to sanctuary in order to protect her from her master and that….</p><p>“<em>Thing</em>,” he growled, not sure what else to call the pair of twins that shared a single body, a shudder going down his back.</p><p>He made a silent vow that as long as Barreau remained within the cathedral walls, Madellaine would be quite safe. With both the shelter in this holy house of God and now his added protection, there was no possible way any danger could reach her.</p><p>Or so he thought.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>13</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>HIS </strong>red-rimmed and cracked blue irises burned and itched in his eyes from a growing state of exhaustion and sleeplessness, though the young twenty-one-year-old bell ringer of Notre Dame knew he had to maintain a constant state of vigilance now.</p>
<p>He had to try to find the Archdeacon. Quasi mumbled a silent prayer under his breath, praying the man would still be up. Notre Dame’s bell ringer breathed out a sigh of relief as finally, out of the corner of his peripherals, he caught a familiar flash of white and red robes. Finally, he had found the old man.</p>
<p>Not wishing to startle the elderly man as he slowly and swiftly walked down the halls, Quasi turned his head to the side and awkwardly cleared his throat, nervously stepping from the shadows. It was still a strange sensation, being…<em>free</em> of Master.</p>
<p>Quasi was not quite sure he would ever get used to at least the people in the church no longer being afraid of his visage, not even the Archdeacon as the Archdeacon of Josas slowly turned and regarded the bell ringer with furrowed, greying eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Quasimodo? Is that you, my boy?” he asked in a warbling, ancient kind voice, though his deep baritone reverberated throughout the walls of the corridor as Quasi nodded his head.</p>
<p>“Y—yes, Father,” he stammered, suddenly feeling his forehead break out into a cold sweat as the slick beads of perspiration started to throng down the front and sides of his temple. He hated to leave Madellaine alone upstairs even for a moment. The bell ringer cringed to think what would happen if she were to wake up and he wasn’t there after he’d <em>promised</em> her.</p>
<p>The Archdeacon’s frown deepened, this gesture creating more lines upon his already weathered and slightly reddened face and a deep grove near the edges of his mouth as his lips tugged downward as he looked upon their cathedral’s sole bell ringer.</p>
<p>“Is everything all right, my child? I was just coming to check on you, I could have <em>sworn</em> I heard a commotion outside. Was that <em>you</em>?” he questioned, raising a thick eyebrow at the boy.</p>
<p>Quasi cringed, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly wishing for nothing more than the floor beneath his brown leather boots to open up and swallow him whole and not let him re-emerge until the Archdeacon had left.</p>
<p>He felt as though he were being scrutinized under the elderly gentleman’s gaze, and yet, as he lifted his gaze and dared to meet the man’s questioning green eyes, he could not manage to bring himself to lie. Not here on Holy Ground, and not to <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>“Ah, y—yes, th—that was…<em>me</em>,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his facial muscles tense and stiffen as he braced himself for the inevitable admonishing that was sure to come as a result of his confession. He waited. One minute. Two minutes. Three.</p>
<p>But it didn’t come. Curious as to the reason why, Quasi cautiously opened his eyes and sanguinely turned his head back around to face the Archdeacon completely, who was mere regarding the young twenty-two-year-old with a look of concern.</p>
<p>“Is everything…well?” the Archdeacon asked, a note of trepidation in his deep, rumbling baritone as he neatly folded his arthritic hands in front of his middle and patiently waited for the shy, younger man to manage to get a hold of himself and collect his thoughts.</p>
<p>It wasn’t often at all the boy ventured beyond the stairwells of his north and south tower lofts, so for the former Judge’s young ward to venture down here and seek him was, sadly, the Archdeacon believed, quite a cause for his concern.</p>
<p>“Oh, ah, w—well…th—there’s a young girl up in my north tower, monsieur,” he stammered, downcasting his eyes, his tongue suddenly feeling thick in his mouth, like dried old clay.</p>
<p>If the Archdeacon was at all surprised by the younger man’s abruptly blurted out confession, the clergyman hid it well.</p>
<p>Though even in the dim light from the flickering candelabras the older gentleman was standing nearby, even Quasimodo could see his eyebrows shoot so far up onto his forehead that his greying brows almost vanished into his hairline.</p>
<p>Quasi’s eyes widened as he realized how inappropriate this all must sound, considering the nature of what he was, and she…</p>
<p>He swallowed down hard past the lump in his throat, not wanting to think about such an unhelpful comparison right now.</p>
<p>“N—not like th—<em>that</em>, Your Grace! N—not that I—I <em>would</em>,” he stammered, immediately trying to correct his mistake, the fiery heat scorching his cheeks only intensifying as time dragged on. He blew out a steadying breath to quell his nerves. Not that it did the poor flustered fellow any good. If anything, it only increased his level of anxiety currently working to tighten his chest, rendering it almost nigh impossible for the poor man to get in a good breath. “She—she was h—<em>hurt</em>, something was <em>after</em> her, monsieur. I—I stopped it, b—but I think it might still be outside on the steps…”</p>
<p>If it was at all possible, the Archdeacon’s brows rose up even further onto his forehead. Quasi cringed, wondering what the implications of the intensity of the older man’s stare meant. Though he had no time to dwell on it as he spoke up.</p>
<p>“Where is the young mademoiselle now? Is she injured? Does she perhaps need the care of a doctor?” he asked kindly.</p>
<p>Quasi abruptly shook his head, furrowing his brows into a frown. He could not explain it, though the thought of another man upstairs in his bell tower, a someone that wasn’t him, in the presence of the young mademoiselle, his friend, did not sit right with him at <em>all</em> and caused a fiery heat to seep to the man’s throat.</p>
<p>His blood boiled and curdled in his veins at just the concept of inviting a foreign man up into his tower loft, and he vehemently shook his head back and forth, clenching his fists.</p>
<p>“N—No, Your Grace, I—I don’t think that will be n—necessary,” he fumbled, painfully twisting his hands together and wanting to steer the conversation away from the topic of the Archdeacon sending for a doctor as quickly as possible. “I—<em>I</em> will care for her, I—in the tower. She—she suffers a mild fever, sir, I—I was wondering if one of the nuns might make a poultice for her?”</p>
<p>The Archdeacon nodded. “I will of course do anything that I can to help ensure the young mademoiselle heals,” he vowed.</p>
<p>“Th—Thank you, Father,” Quasi mumbled gratefully, dipping into an awkward little half-bow, as well as he could manage given his tall, yet lackluster posture. “May she claim sanctuary, monsieur? That—that <em>thing</em> outside was chasing her.”</p>
<p>“Chasing?” The Archdeacon repeated in an uncertain voice. “What ‘thing’, my child?” he questioned, concerned, as he looked at the growing anger in their bell ringer’s face like a shadow of rage flickered across the man’s angular and sharp Roman-like face.</p>
<p>“Y—yes,” Quasi lowered his chin, inhaling deeply as if preparing himself for the task that lay ahead. “O—outside on the front steps. I—I’ve never seen anything <em>like</em> it, Your Grace. Two heads on a single body, monsieur. I—I know <em>I’m</em> one to talk, b-but…” His voice trailed off as the bell ringer looked at the man.</p>
<p>“Is it still outside, my son?” the Archdeacon questioned kindly. If the aging clergyman was at all surprised by the note of disgust in their bell ringer’s confession, the man hid it quite well.</p>
<p>“I—I <em>hope</em> not,” Quasi growled, not bothering to tamper down the note of displeasure in his voice at just the thought, and he gnashed his teeth together in anger, though he forced himself to stifle a low growl of annoyance as the Archdeacon quickly motioned with a wave of his arm to follow him towards the doors.</p>
<p>Quasi bristled at the memory of stepping from the shadows to see that horrid-looking creature torment the poor woman so bad. So deep in thought was Notre Dame’s bell ringer that the two men were outside on the front steps of the cathedral before he realized it.</p>
<p>The younger man took a moment to draw in a deep breath and compose himself as his eyesight adjusted to the darkness of the night sky around him. He swallowed his nerves, and his anger, though it quickly reignited as he was quick to come to the conclusion that he and the Archdeacon were alone out here.</p>
<p>“It—it’s <em>gone</em>!” he seethed, almost feeling his chest start to swell with imploding rage. It was <em>not</em> in the spot where he’d left it.</p>
<p>He balled his shaking fists to his sides in defense of his anger, though he could feel some of the tension in his shoulders instantly dissipate the moment he felt the soft yet tempered strength of the grip of the Archdeacon of Josas’s hand on his arm.</p>
<p>The older man gave the bell ringer’s bicep an affectionate little pat and chuckled, shaking his head to himself as he turned away, once more motioning for the younger man to follow him.</p>
<p>Seeing no other choice, as he was not certain which way the creature could have gone, he saw no other choice but to follow.</p>
<p>“That matters not, my son,” the Archdeacon emphasized as the pair disappeared through the front doors of the church again. “Should this...this person or people return, judging by your description of whatever attacked the young mademoiselle upstairs, then it will need never make any attempts to approach her again.” The Archdeacon did not budge. “<em>You</em> will protect her.”</p>
<p>Coming from the clergyman, it was an assertion, and not a question, Quasimodo knew, as the Archdeacon fixed him with a rather pointed stare, as though he expected it of the young man.</p>
<p>For a moment, the bell ringer could not speak. She was touched by the older gentleman’s confidence in his abilities, and that he trusted him enough to allow the young woman to stay with him. “Th—thank you, Your Grace,” he murmured, glancing towards his tower’s stairwell over his shoulder with a nervous, apprehensive glance. He wondered if she had woken up just yet.</p>
<p>“I would, however, my dear boy, be remiss if I did not at least caution you to be <em>careful</em>. I could only guess that the individual or persons responsible, or a master if she <em>has</em> one, will come looking for her,” he warned, a note of caution in his voice.</p>
<p>Quasi nodded, finding himself moved by the clergyman’s concern, and didn’t bother to quell the small smile that appeared on his face. His mind was far too preoccupied to even conceive of the thought that perhaps the girl had family who’d be missing her.</p>
<p>The Archdeacon acknowledged the church’s bell ringer’s gratitude with a heartfelt dip of his chin. It was not only his belief in him that Quasimodo appreciated but his unwavering support. There was no need for him to say anymore, he understood. Then the Archdeacon politely excused himself as he turned quietly and left Quasi to his own thoughts, saying one of the nuns would be up shortly with a poultice to bring down the girl’s fever.</p>
<p>Quasi didn’t hesitate to stalk, yes, quite literally <em>stalk</em>, and stomp his way up the tower stairwell, still fuming in his anger that that creature had been allowed to get away from his clutches. He ought to have <em>killed</em> it or at <em>least</em> brought it inside for the deacon to question it.</p>
<p>As visions of the creature’s abhorrent identical faces flitted through his mind, Quasi recollected how utterly furious he’d been. How he had come so dangerously close to <em>killing</em>, to take another’s life in order to protect a woman whom he hardly knew.</p>
<p>He paused when he reached the top of the tower’s stairwell, his eyes widening in shock as realization dawned on his pale face.</p>
<p>What had caused him to stop his own revenge upon the man who had come so dangerously close to harming the girl tonight? The thought that he could not bear to look into the young woman’s bright blue eyes that reminded him of the sky after a fresh rainfall and see the disappointment and anger within them.</p>
<p>That he <em>cared</em> about what she thought of him. What he was. His face contorted into a grimace as he shut his eyes tightly, turning the handle, and pushed the heavy door open with one swift and fluid movement and disappeared into the darkness of his loft.</p>
<p>Quasi had barely set one foot over the threshold of the mezzanine that separated his tower loft from the stairwell when a truly god-awful noise reached his ears, an ear-piercing scream that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand upright. <em>Her</em> voice. He <em>knew</em> that voice. He recognized that scream.</p>
<p>The scream tore through the twenty-one-year-old bell ringer like a shard of broken glass, piercing his heart and twisting it deeply. He felt his eyes widen and his heart rate and pulse quicken as he bolted through the door, almost stumbling over the entryway. Madellaine’s scream came again, desperate, terrified.</p>
<p>The blood drained from the bell ringer’s face, and before the young man even became cognizant of what he was doing, he turned on the heels of his boots in the direction it had come from.</p>
<p>His damaged hearing strained for more sounds, more clues as to where his new friend’s screams had come from, listening for anything that might give away the young woman’s position here in the loft.</p>
<p>Wherever she had disappeared to, she sounded hurt, like she was in danger. Cursing wildly under his breath, he broke into a run, all the while praying to hear something that would give him a clue as to where she was. A shout of pain, a cry for help, anything, and God help it if that—that <em>thing</em> had snuck up here!</p>
<p>He would kill those twins for daring to set one foot inside his home and dare to lay even so much as a single finger on Madellaine de Barreau’s head. Those two would have to start praying to God for mercy because that’s the only help they’d get.</p>
<p>Quasi had no idea as to what he would do when he reached Madellaine’s side, just that he had to get there, and bloody <em>fast</em>.</p>
<p>He could only pray that he wasn’t too late.</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>THEY </strong>first thought they had been mistaken, that their eyes were deceiving them.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know he had it in him, we got ourselves a real lover boy on our hands, Vic, Laverne, did you <em>hear</em>? That soldier boy, what’s his name? Feeble? Doofus? Well, his lessons on how to woo the girls must be workin’. She said <em>yes</em>!” whisper-shouted Hugo as the three stone gargoyles nervously hobbled their way into the boy’s sleeping nook, curious to catch a glimpse of the mysterious foreign beauty with their own wretched stone eyes.</p>
<p>Laverne’s bony hand shot to her chest as if trying to stop her little stone heart from bursting right through. Not that it could. She was, after all, only made of stone and granite marble.</p>
<p>“<em>Shh</em>!” she hissed, bearing her fangs at the shortest of the three stone gargoyles, the old fat swine with the even fatter mouth and almost no filter. “Be <em>quiet</em>, Hugo, or you’ll wake the girl up!”</p>
<p>Hugo shot the elderly gargoyle and the only female of the trio of statues that possessed the gift of being rendered alive once left alone a truly admonishing and withering look with his eyes.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth, no doubt to fire back a smart remark, though the tallest and more eloquent and regaled of the three, Victor, interjected with a light hobble as stone scraped against the hardwood as Victor flexed his wings and slowly hopped his way towards the pile of blankets to get a better look.</p>
<p>“A vision of loveliness,” he murmured appreciatively, looking towards Laverne and Hugo for confirmation, who nodded.</p>
<p>“Where do ya suppose she came from?” Hugo asked, still oblivious to just how loud he was whisper-shouting, his voice reverberating off the wooden walls. He winced as Victor and Laverne shushed him just as loudly in retaliation for his outburst.</p>
<p>“She’s a runaway or a vagabond? She certainly doesn’t <em>look</em> like a gypsy,” Hugo murmured, stroking his fat chin thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“She’s a part of the <em>circus</em>, you moron!” Laverne growled exasperatedly, rolling her eyes tiredly at the dim-wittedness of her and Victor’s companion. Hugo meant well, but he was quite thick.</p>
<p>“Not <em>anymore</em>, the girl isn’t,” Victor answered stoically, a grim expression on his, well, stony face. “She’s claiming sanctuary, did you not hear Quasimodo? She’s staying <em>here</em>.”</p>
<p>“With <em>him</em>,” Hugo snorted, sounding torn between his desire to laugh or not and in the end, miraculously decided not.</p>
<p>Laverne opened her mouth to speak, though promptly clamped her lips shut the moment the ancient stone gargoyle noticed the young woman stirring again. It was just the three of them alone in their friend’s sleeping nook when the stone figures saw the young blonde mademoiselle begin to wriggle beneath the sheets, her skin greyish and clammy, beaded with sweat, and spluttering heavily as she did so.</p>
<p>Madellaine’s sleep had been deep, but not entirely peaceful. Images flitted in front of her mind. More like fragmented thoughts than actual dreams, but plenty more than enough for her to be quite disturbed by them.</p>
<p>Some were benign and memorable—she had particularly enjoyed revisiting the fleeting few hours she’d spent outside on the balcony terrace with Notre Dame’s bell ringer this late afternoon and into the evening when the sun crept its way past the horizon, but most had passed the young blonde by too quickly for Madellaine to fully comprehend what all of her dreams meant, leaving nothing but a darkly unsettling presence in her wake.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear, she’s waking up,” a deep baritone voice mumbled that she did not entirely recognize, something huge, hulking, and grey leaning over her from her place on the pile of blankets and pillows on the floor, trying to peer into her pupils as her eyelids flickered open and shut, barely perceptively and aware. Madellaine was beginning to wake up now, though everything ached, and her entire body felt so horribly warm, so she was content to lay there for a while in a semi-conscious haze, teetering on the brink between the darkness of her dreams and the brilliant, blinding yet dimmed light of the man’s sleeping place.</p>
<p>It was like being submerged in the dark, murky, disgusting water of the River Seine, just beneath the surface of her reality. She could see and hear…<em>something</em> speaking to her, it didn’t sound like Quasi’s voice. And there were multiple voices, not just one. There were three of them.</p>
<p>Her new friend’s voice was soft, timid, carrying a tenor-like, almost musical quality when he spoke. This man’s voice was entirely too deep and baritone to belong to him. If she strained her ears to listen, she heard them.</p>
<p>“…Where’s Quasi? Do ya think we should go find him? She—she’s <em>not</em> supposed ta see us!” another voice whisper-shouted, sounding utterly panicked at the thought of her waking up and laying eyes on them, which Madellaine thought strange.</p>
<p>There was the sound of what sounded like an old woman talking—was it a nun?</p>
<p>And then came the unmistakable sound of stone hitting stone, followed by an audible groan of pain after, but the sounds were faint, distant, and distorted, an indistinct ripple that couldn’t fully penetrate the bandages that had stretched over her limited perception of the world in her raging, feverish state.</p>
<p>A horrible thought swam towards Madellaine, fully formed and dangerous like a shark.</p>
<p><em>You dreamt it. The twins didn’t follow you here, you didn’t accept Quasi’s offer to stay in his tower alongside him, you’re still back at Sarousch’s campsite, dreaming of your freedom</em>.</p>
<p>The familiar voice chimed in from somewhere at the back of her head, that dark, demonic little voice she always tried to ignore. Momentarily, the thought was enough to light up the mental darkness. Could coming up to the man’s tower loft and speaking with the kind and gentle giant she’d met earlier today, have just been another cruel illusion? Another of Baba’s <em>tricks</em>?</p>
<p>Madellaine didn’t think she could handle it if it was just another trap. Alarmed and feeling panicked, even in her hazy state of semi-consciousness, Madellaine quickly swam to the surface, and whatever might be waiting for her there.</p>
<p>There was a constricting on her throat, like the weight of whatever was wound around her throat was doing its hardest to suck the very breath from her lungs. She sighed, her once tranquil face now welcoming a struggle. Slowly, it loosened. Carefully, she pried open her eyes.</p>
<p>The last thing she remembered before allowing her aching and fatigued body to succumb to a fitful rest was Quasi, telling her that he’d not leave her side, and the sight she bore now made her pupils dilate even in the dark. No candles were lighted in the man’s sleeping place, and the room was swathed in shadows, but three pairs of beady, narrowed eyes burned like midnight torches.</p>
<p>Slowly but surely, she propped herself up on her elbows to try to get a better look at what was in here in the room with her.</p>
<p>At first, her vision was blurry and quite out of focus, only able to discern basic shapes and colors. Blinking rapidly, the girl managed to clear her sight long enough to where the shapes and colors quickly solidified into something of a recognition for her. Three stone gargoyles were perched on the other side of the bell ringer’s sleeping nook, near the entryway, which made her furrow her brows in slight confusion as her vision slowly cleared.</p>
<p><em>Odd. They—they weren’t there before when I was awake. D—did Quasimodo move them in here for some reason</em>?</p>
<p>She wracked her brain trying to remember and coming up short. As she blinked her lids, slowly, looking around the room, it only took one-split-second thought of realizing Quasi was not in the room with her to realize that something was wrong. He—he’d <em>promised</em> he wouldn’t leave her side, so had something happened?</p>
<p>Every nerve on her body felt on edge the moment Madellaine bolted upright, swiveling her head in the direction of the three stone gargoyles, fully ready to give whatever person if it <em>wasn’t</em> Quasi here in the room with her a piece of her mind that had decided to sneak up here while she was sleeping, <em>spying</em> on her…only for Madellaine de Barreau’s sharp, sky-blue irises to widen in shock and utter disbelief, her pale features turned ashen, almost bone white, causing the darkening circles underneath both her eyes to become even more sunken in and hollow as all of the blood left her face.</p>
<p>It was not Quasi, as she had expected, and half-hoped for, but three stone gargoyles, grotesque-looking monsters of stone, the likes of which she’d never seen before. And they were…they were <em>moving</em>.<em> Wait. Moving?</em></p>
<p>Two of them went lifeless, though the one in the middle, she swore its snout twitched as it fought back a sneeze, thanks to the accumulation of the dust in the bedroom. The shortest of the three-shot her a wide smile and a tiny wave. “Glad you’re awake.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh, my God, it talked! It talked! </em>
</p>
<p>She felt sure the stressors of her hard life living in Sarousch’s circus troupe had finally caught up with her as she felt her shoulders began to heave as she bolted upright to her feet, staggering backward, her arm bracing against the wall for support as she lowered herself into the corner.</p>
<p>This was bloody it. She’d gone certifiably <em>insane</em>. She was sure to be carted off to the asylum come morning, never to see the light of day again.</p>
<p>She did the only thing she could think of.</p>
<p>Madellaine <em>screamed</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>14</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>QUASI </strong>wasn’t honestly sure how he was still standing upright at this point, given how the moment he barreled into the room of his sleeping nook, and his eyes adjusted to the dim light, and his gaze settled upon his three stone gargoyles, and then the poor girl cowering in the corner, looking just as feverish if not more so.</p>
<p>His heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach as the girl lifted her gaze and met his, and he almost flinched, wanting to tear his gaze away from the hollowed eye sockets staring back at him. He hoped one of the nuns would be up soon with the herbs.</p>
<p>“Th—they’re <em>talking</em>! The—the <em>gargoyles</em>!” she managed to squeak out in a faint, weak, and raspy voice as she pointed a violently shaking hand towards his three companions who had, once Quasimodo shot the figures a truly withering and admonishing glower that would have had the ability to wilt a fully bloomed rose, taken the hint and promptly rendered themselves lifeless in front of the girl, though if Madellaine had screamed, it had surely not been without just cause.</p>
<p><em>One of them</em>, <em>probably Hugo</em>, he thought bitterly to himself, <em>must have revealed their existence to her</em>. He winced as he gingerly approached, wanting nothing more than to scoop the young woman up into his arms and insist that she rest, but he feared he would frighten her more than she already was, in her feverish state, so for now, he maintained a cautious and respectful distance away from her. As he passed the three stone figures, he paused and gave a particularly harsh kick towards Hugo’s back that he knew the gargoyle felt, even rendered lifeless for scaring her and him near half to death. He’d be having a <em>talk</em> with Hugo a little bit later.</p>
<p>Quasi swallowed down past a lump in his throat as he slowly lowered to the floor in a kneeling crouch position, close enough to maintain a respectful distance from his friend, though close enough he could close off the gap of space at a sign of trouble, in case her fever worsened or if she were to pass out.</p>
<p>For now, he decided the first course of action would be to calm her down. “The—the gargoyles?” he stammered, feeling a sheen of sweat start to throng along his browbone and slide down the front and sides of his temples. He felt quite <em>warm</em> all of a sudden, and he knew he’d have to have harsh words with probably Hugo later. He felt as though Laverne and Victor would have had more subtlety and tact than to reveal themselves to Madellaine.</p>
<p>Madellaine swallowed down past the lump in her throat and mutely nodded, though almost the minute she did so, her blue eyes widened, and she drew in a rattling gasp that Quasi didn’t like. He visibly flinched, hoping his friend hadn’t seen it.</p>
<p>“B—but…that’s <em>dumb</em>, isn’t it?” she breathed, lowering her voice, and suddenly sounding ashamed, downcasting her eyes, and looking like she was embarrassed to meet Quasimodo’s gaze.</p>
<p>He froze, torn between the desire to comfort Madellaine and the almost instinctual urge to brush off her claim of the gargoyles’ existence, that yes, they were very much real, but…</p>
<p><em>It’s too soon</em>, he thought wildly, chewing on his bottom lip. Finally, by some miracle of God, Quasi managed to find his voice again, though when he did, his voice trembled slightly as he spoke, daring to look the young circus performer in her terrified eyes.</p>
<p>“Y—you’re feverish, Madellaine,” he murmured, trying, and feeling like he was failing to ignore the heat scorching his cheeks.</p>
<p>God, but he <em>hated</em> this. He’d already lied to her once tonight, was he <em>trying</em> for two?!?</p>
<p>But the knowledge that his friends could speak to him would surely send her mind insane… And the look she shot him was almost heartbreaking, he swore he saw the brief flicker of hope dim a little in her sky-blue pale blue irises, at the hope that he would have believed her. Quasi swallowed, wracking his brain trying to think of something to say that would undo the damage of the emotional blow he’d dealt the young woman, and coming up short now.</p>
<p>“Th—that just means…you have an imagination,” he murmured, biting at the wall of his cheek in a nervous fit, hoping he’d not inadvertently caused a rift in their new friendship just now by trying to brush off what she had said was actually a fact.</p>
<p>She pursed her lips and stuck out her bottom lip in a slight pout that he secretly thought was adorable and pouted at Quasi.</p>
<p>“I—I <em>know</em> what I saw, Quasi! They—they were <em>alive</em>!” Shivering, Madellaine huddled in the corner of the man’s sleeping place as she watched the man slowly stood to his feet, turning away from her and working quickly to light a few more candles.</p>
<p>While she was feeling rather useless right now and would have liked to help him with whatever it is that he was about to do, Madellaine felt presently too weak and exhausted to even get up. Her entire body was sore from Erik and Jakob having pushed her around so harshly, her shoulder and wrist throbbed.</p>
<p>And she was beginning to feel quite clammy and feverish. She could barely even keep her eyes open, let alone be of any help.</p>
<p>“I—I’m sorry,” she whispered faintly, wracked with a horrible feeling of guilt for her new friend having to calm her down.</p>
<p>She watched him give a start at her words, swearing under his breath as he almost fumbled the candle he’d been working to light. He peered at her over his shoulder incredulously, wide-eyed. Notre Dame’s bell ringer stood, his tall shadow casting a large shadow over her weak and cowering form in the far corner.</p>
<p>Much to her relief, Quasi shot her a smile, flashing a set of surprisingly straight and white teeth that strangely made her feel warm, and she felt confident her feverish state had nothing to do with it. “You’ve <em>nothing</em> to apologize for, Madellaine,” he said, though even though his voice was soft, there was a hint of annoyance laced through the gentle giant’s soft tenor-like voice.</p>
<p>“I <em>know</em> what I saw,” Madellaine whispered, fully aware she was probably sounding like a disgruntled child when the adults wouldn’t believe their children’s claims, but she couldn’t help it.</p>
<p>Keeping his back still turned towards her, he answered in a clipped voice that suggested the topic was closed. “You’re feverish. It’s only your mind imagining things, Madellaine. Try to <em>rest</em>.”</p>
<p>Madellaine pouted, biting down on her bottom lip, and shook her head to herself, but favored silence as the only answer. She watched, intrigued, as the sound of footsteps coming from outside momentarily drew Quasi away from her, an older woman’s voice, sounding like one of the nuns from the sound of what was going on.</p>
<p>She didn’t have to wait long for him to return. Madellaine silently observed Quasi in silence, lacking the strength to return to the pile of blankets in the middle of the room that she’d startlingly vacated when she saw the gargoyles <em>move</em>.</p>
<p><em>I know what I saw. Why won’t Quasimodo believe me</em>?</p>
<p>She shuddered, a cold chill wafting down her back at the thought. He seemed awfully upset, grinding whatever herbs the sister from downstairs had brought him almost hard enough to crush the mortar and pestle in his hands as he set the small wooden bowl on a small wooden side table on the opposite end of the room.</p>
<p>Which she didn’t quite understand. Madellaine hadn’t asked for the man to come to her aid, though she was grateful.</p>
<p>Why was it, no matter what she did, it wasn’t good enough? The way Madellaine saw it, she’d dealt with those stupid twins the only way she’d known how. The girl pouted as she hugged her arms around herself and continued observing the tall bell ringer’s movements across the sleeping nook. She felt so frigid cold, and she couldn’t seem to stop her body’s violent trembling or her teeth from chattering. She didn’t know if perhaps she’d eaten something of Baba’s that was giving her food poisoning or <em>what</em>.</p>
<p>Her shivering could have been caused by the fact that there was a part of her probably still in shock from having nearly been accosted by the twins, or perhaps it was due to the cold air in here.</p>
<p>Madellaine frowned when she thought of the way Quasi had looked at her and had spoken to her, dismissing her claims about the gargoyles, almost aloof and cold. The bell ringer of the church seemed to think that she was foolish, but she <em>knew</em> what she saw.</p>
<p>She wasn’t crazy! But she supposed she ought to feel grateful, considering her friend had saved her life tonight from those twins. She shuddered. If Quasi hadn’t found her, the twins would still have her in their cruel clutches, and God only <em>knew</em> what those boys’ ill intentions towards her tonight had been then.</p>
<p>Even now, there was a part of her that was afraid the twins were nearby somehow. What if they were still waiting for her outside the cathedral? Quasi was extremely strong, yes, that much she could see for herself though he tried to downplay it with his long-sleeved linen undershirts and his thick green woolen tunic, but what if next time Erik and Jakob came back with more of their friends? Or worse, what if Sarousch was coming to look for her?!?</p>
<p>Madellaine looked up warily as Quasi approached her. She hoped her friend wouldn’t chastise her again, because she really was not in a mood to be yelled at right now. The way she saw it, she had done nothing wrong tonight. But the man stood towering before her now, looking down at the girl before speaking to her.</p>
<p>Over his arm was draped a thick woolen blanket. “Here,” he muttered, offering Madellaine the blanket he carried. “I—I won’t need it tonight, I get hot throughout the night as it is. You need it more than I do, my friend. You—you should get warm.”</p>
<p>The young blonde circus performer reached out a shaking hand and numbly accepted the blanket, peeking over the man’s thigh as he stood directly in front of her line of sight, effectively blocking her view from the now lifelessly and still gargoyle figures. She stuck her tongue out at the grotesque monsters of stone, not hearing the light little chuckle Quasi gave out at the gesture.</p>
<p>“Th—thank you, Quasi, you’re—you’re very kind,” she whispered in a small voice as she wrapped the blanket around herself with fumbling, trembling fingers, instantly feeling warmer.</p>
<p>She held her breath as the bell ringer knelt down in front of her, pulling the blanket more securely around Madellaine’s slender shoulders, looking her in the eyes with a narrowed gaze, and then putting his strong gloved hand gently against the girl’s clammy forehead, wincing and pulling his hand back as if burnt.</p>
<p>“We’re going to need to try to do something about your fever, Madellaine,” Quasi spoke, sounding worried and concerned.</p>
<p>As if to emphasize his point, he gestured towards the wooden bowl in his hands with a light little jerk of his head.</p>
<p>Madellaine nodded in agreement with her friend. “I—if you put the herbs into some tea, it might help. Probably just sleep it off,” she suggested in a small voice that shook as she shivered.</p>
<p>“Here,” he said quickly as another violent tremble wracked her shuddering body, noticing how hard she was trying to control the incessant chattering of her teeth. Before Madellaine could protest, she felt the man’s strong arms around her waist, and she could barely summon the energy to let out a squeak of surprise as he lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the pile of blankets that she had crumpled in a heap in her shock at discovering the statues were moving and had been <em>spying</em> on her.</p>
<p>Her friend held her delicately, almost as if she were made of the finest of china, as though just touching her the wrong way would cause her body to shatter. Gently, he lowered her to the pile of blankets, careful to support her head, before stepping back.</p>
<p>“Quasi,” Madellaine spoke up tiredly after a moment as the man stepped back and slumped to the floor, using the wall as a brace, bringing his knees up close to his chest, content to her watch her. He must have noticed that she feared he’d leave again.</p>
<p>“You’ll be all right,” he promised her in his soft voice. “Just try to get some rest. Nothing here can hurt you when you’re with me,” he said, a muscle in his jaw twitching a bit as he spoke up.</p>
<p>Madellaine let out a tiny noise that might have been a snort as she cast a suspicious glance towards the three gargoyle figures.</p>
<p>She could have sworn they moved… “What if they…?”</p>
<p>“You were imagining it. They won’t move again, Madellaine.” There was a note of finality in his voice that warned her in not so many words not to bring it up to Quasimodo again.</p>
<p>Though she was still quite reasonably frightened, of both Jakob and Erik coming back, maybe Sarousch, and the fact that she swore the gargoyle in the middle, the one who’d spoken to her, opened one of its eyes and winked at her, Madellaine was too exhausted and hurt to keep herself staying away too much longer.</p>
<p>She didn’t want to fall asleep, for fear she’d wake up to the three stone monsters staring at her while she’d slept, or worse, the twins or even Sarousch, but she supposed she could rest her eyes.</p>
<p>Just for a moment, Madellaine told herself exhaustedly. So, she rested her head against the pile of pillows against the floor of the bell ringer’s sleeping nook, and let her exhausted eyes close…</p>
<hr/>
<p>Quasi frowned as he watched the girl drift into an uneasy sleep but shivering as she nestled and burrowed under the blankets. Perhaps against his better judgment, he rose to his feet and gingerly approached where the young blonde girl slept, reaching out his hand to the girl’s forehead, checking to see if her fever was slowly fading, now that she was actually resting now and not over-exerting herself or taxing her body to the point of stress. Madellaine’s skin was still much warmer than it should have been, but it was then that he noticed the girl flinching slightly underneath his shaking and tender touch, mumbling soft whimpers in her fitful sleep. She was having a kind of nightmare.</p>
<p>“<em>Don’t</em>…” the girl squeaked in an out of breath voice. Quasi moved his hands back and furrowed his brows in a frown, wondering for a moment if Madellaine was speaking to him now. “No, don’t…leave him <em>alone</em>. Q—Quasi didn’t do anything wrong!”</p>
<p>“Madellaine, you’re all right,” Quasi urged the sleeping circus performer, hoping his words might bring her out of her nightmares and whatever she was dreaming about, though just the fact that she seemed to be dreaming about <em>him</em>, had said <em>his</em> wretched name in her sleep, causing a warmth to spread in his chest and to his cheeks, rendering his tongue thick in his mouth.</p>
<p>“Quasi?” Madellaine’s sounded so hurt and the bell ringer could swear he could see tears building up under the girl’s lashes.</p>
<p>Quasi saw no other choice available to him but to comfort the poor thing as he perched himself next to the girl and rested his hand awkwardly but gently on Madellaine’s shoulder, patting it.</p>
<p>“Everything’s all right,” he promised. He really didn’t want to wake her up if he didn’t have to, but if Madellaine continued to talk like this in her sleep, Quasi figured he might have no choice.</p>
<p>Madellaine would get no rest if she were plagued by nightmares. Luckily enough, Quasi’s calm, soft words and his strong grip on her shoulder seemed to have calmed her down.</p>
<p>Quasi let out a tired sigh and scooted back against the wall to allow his back something to brace against to ease the ache.</p>
<p>The poor thing’s face had small scratches dotted all over her collarbones, and her lip looked slightly swollen from whatever that creature had done to her outside. It pained him and angered him greatly to think that anyone could just hit Madellaine like that. The thought of his friend who did not seem to have a vicious or mean-spirited bone in her body, all alone and up against that…that creature, that violent thing, made Quasi feel furious.</p>
<p>He knew one thing was certain. He definitely wanted to avoid anything like this happening to his new friend ever again. He could not quite explain his sudden fierce protectiveness for Madellaine, but he knew he wanted the young blonde to stay near enough that she could call out for help if Madellaine needed to.</p>
<p>Quasi needed to be made aware of any perceived danger immediately. He couldn’t quite shake the Archdeacon’s words from his mind, that there was every possibility it would return. And he did not like to think. He let out a tired sigh and looked across the way where he sat huddled in the corner.</p>
<p>Madellaine needed to be protected, that much was clear to him. Even if the girl didn’t like to admit it about herself or want to ask him for his help, Quasi knew he was going to be ready to give any assistance or protection that she needed while staying.</p>
<p>The thought of the petite little blonde in danger ripped at his heart. He was more frustrated with himself at the moment. Quasi found he was growing angrier and angrier at his own actions tonight as the seconds dragged and turned to minutes.</p>
<p>He should have just ended that accursed creature’s life when he’d had the chance. If he had, it wouldn’t have regained consciousness and escaped. He felt guilty for not having taken a more precautionary measure. Madellaine was vulnerable right now in her physically weakened and feverish state, and Quasi couldn’t help but feel like he ought to have done more to protect his new friend. He glanced over the way at the young blonde, who was breathing softly as she burrowed deeper under the mossy green duvet.</p>
<p>Quasi still worried that Madellaine might not have seen just how desperate and precarious her situation now was, as he had. She’d been lucky to make it out of this alive with mostly just a fever to worry about and some superficial bruises and marks.</p>
<p>While Quasi would have loved for Madellaine to never have the luxury of even thinking about what a monster like that thing outside near the cathedral had been capable of doing to her, the circus performer could no longer remain ignorant to the way menfolk’s minds worked, not when <em>that</em> had almost happened…</p>
<p>Glancing sideways out towards his tower loft for a moment, towards the balcony’s terrace where earlier today, it felt as though the two of them had spent an eternity at the top of the world, Quasi closed his eyes tiredly for a moment and shook his head to himself. There was no point in allowing his anger to consume him. At himself, or at those twins, though for now, that creature outside had disappeared and posed no further threat to the girl.</p>
<p>The important thing was that Madellaine was safe now, and Quasi wasn’t just going to let something like this happen to her again. He silently vowed on his own life to protect his friend.</p>
<p>But even so, the feelings of shame and guilt lingered in the confines of his tormented mind as he drifted into an uneasy sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>15</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>WITH </strong>a rather sharp, surprised gasp, the blonde circus performer forced her tired eyelids that felt heavy open.</p>
<p>Had she fallen asleep? Madellaine certainly hadn’t meant to, that much she remembered. She honestly thought with the idea of the gargoyles coming to life earlier, and the very real possibility that Erik and Jakob and Sarousch would be coming back for her, that she would be much too frightened to sleep, but it seemed like somehow, her exhaustion had won over her desire to stay awake.</p>
<p>She blinked, once, twice, rubbing at her eyelids to rid her lashes of the sleep that had accumulated there and crusted during the night. Presently, as she came to, her mind still felt hazy, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was safe up here in Quasi’s tower.</p>
<p>She could vaguely remember those damned twins almost getting away with ambushing her in the cold dark night in front of the cathedral, and Quasi having to come to her rescue and save her life. She’d thought for certain the twins and Sarousch were going to kill her new friend, and Madellaine could do nothing but beg her master not to, to take her instead, but he’d not listened.</p>
<p>But then she realized, she <em>wasn’t</em> back at their campsite, and her master and the twins <em>weren’t</em> standing in front of her.</p>
<p>She was in the man’s sleeping nook, same as before, and felt relatively warm and safe. The rest must have been her nightmares, she decided. Emanating a tense but relieved little sigh through her flaring nostrils, Madellaine looked around herself as the young blonde slowly came back to her new reality.</p>
<p>It seemed like she was still lying down on the pile of blankets, the same as she had been when she’d accidentally fallen asleep listening to the soothing, reassuring sound of her friend’s tenor-like voice. Still remaining curled up into a ball on the hardwood floor on top of the pile of blankets that she suspected served as Quasi’s bed, she looked around the almost barren room as best as her current position would allow, wanting a good look.</p>
<p>She blinked in surprise as she caught sight of the gentle giant’s figure, tall and towering even when slumped to the floor in the corner as he was, his arms folded across his chest, watching.</p>
<p>Madellaine felt surprisingly warmer now. She glanced down to find that the green woolen blanket that Quasi had given her earlier was now wrapped tightly around her. The girl burrowed further under the blanket as she peered across the room. She was honestly quite surprised that Quasi had given her his blanket. Surely, the man had to be <em>freezing</em> up here right now!</p>
<p>Honestly, Madellaine wracked her brain trying to remember. She couldn’t remember when the last time it was that she’d felt so safe and warm, regardless of the fact the torment and physical hurt those stupid conjoined twins had put her through was still running rampant and fresh in the girl’s troubled mind.</p>
<p>Madellaine was confident in the bell ringer’s abilities that he would keep his word, that Quasimodo would really do as he said, and protect Madellaine from further harm as best he could.</p>
<p>But despite this, though she knew she ought to have been reassured and overjoyed by such a promise, that another human being in her life cared about her enough to want to protect her, it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t stop the horrible feeling of warmth, the familiar emotion of dread from seeping its way unbidden to the surface, crawling up her throat in the form of bitter bile.</p>
<p>It didn’t take an intellectual scholar present in the room alongside her to know that she still didn’t feel at ease about Quasi’s apparent disappointment in her actions from last night.</p>
<p>He didn’t have to say a word. The look of disappointment and anger was etched into the man’s features and in his eyes.</p>
<p>It became clear to Madellaine that Quasi thought she should have stayed in the cathedral, that she shouldn’t have dared to venture outside once the sun set beyond the horizon and night fell. She wanted nothing more than to set things straight with her new friend, to tell Quasi that she stood by her own actions last night, that she had no idea the twins would have followed her.</p>
<p>And there was a part of her that wanted to inform the man that she was not as ignorant to men’s behaviors as he believed.</p>
<p>Madellaine knew what the twins would have done to her, had Quasi not come and if they’d been allowed to have their way.</p>
<p>She knew so very well, in fact, that it made her shudder violently just thinking about it, and she squeezed her eyes shut to try to rid her still-slightly-feverish mind of the alarming visual images that even behind closed lids, managed to burn her retinas.</p>
<p>Madellaine wanted the bell ringer to know that Madellaine wasn’t as naïve as Quasi had perhaps inadvertently implied to her.</p>
<p>But she didn’t want to argue with the man, and she certainly didn’t want a rift to ensure day one into her claim to the sanctuary within these walls, and she didn’t want a fight to start. However, she also knew that she wouldn’t feel right until she spoke to the cathedral’s bell ringer. She swallowed down hard.</p>
<p>“Quasi?” Madellaine finally squeaked in a small voice as the young blonde circus performer forced herself upright into a sitting position and scooted back so she could lean against the tower’s walls, but kept the blanket wound tightly around herself.</p>
<p>She watched as the man quickly stood up and practically bolted forward across the floor of his sleeping nook so fast to reach her where she sat against the wall, he was almost a blur.</p>
<p>“What is it?” Quasi asked, kneeling into a crouch in front of her, concern and worry marking his pale features. “Are you still feeling ill? Are you feeling all right? Are you warm enough?”</p>
<p>Madellaine swallowed past the lump forming in her throat, cringing at how hoarse her voice sounded. “I’m okay,” she replied.</p>
<p>She heard Quasi breathe out an audible sigh of relief as his shoulders slumped.</p>
<p>“Good,” he said, smiling at her in a way that made her heart drop to the pit of her churning stomach, putting his gloved hand on the girl’s forehead. “You’re feeling cooler,” he noted, with a light, encouraging smile. “Do you think you’ll be up to help me in the morning?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice.</p>
<p>“Sure,” she finally agreed after an awkward pause, though in truth, she worried about just what exactly helping Quasi in his tower would entail, if it sometimes would require going downstairs. As much as she wanted to stay hidden from the outside world forever up here at the top of the world with him, she knew eventually she was going to probably have to go back down.</p>
<p>
  <em>But if I do that, then what if Sarousch comes for me?</em>
</p>
<p>Quasi frowned, noticing his friend’s thin eyebrows knit together in worry and concern, and her lips purse into a line. “You <em>are</em> feeling better, Madellaine, aren’t you?” he wondered, biting down on his bottom lip as his hand finally moved away from her forehead and settled upon her left shoulder.</p>
<p>She decided she liked his hand there, feeling his strong, ironclad grip, though Quasi was careful to be gentle with her. It made her feel <em>safe</em>. Secure. Something she’d never had back at the campsites while under Master Sarousch’s every whim.</p>
<p>“W—well…yes.” Madellaine hesitated, biting on her lip as she nervously lifted her gaze to meet his, the man’s blue eyes wrought and laced to the brim with concern for her well-being. She almost couldn’t take it.  “I just…I <em>know</em> men like the…like the twins that you met last night are out there, I know that. I don’t need you to tell it to me, Quasi. They’re everywhere in this world. But I thought I could <em>handle</em> them since I <em>knew</em> them. I grew up alongside those two, I <em>know</em> what those men are like, Quasi. I never took the threat quite as seriously as before. I didn’t think that they would…try to do that,” Madellaine whispered.</p>
<p>“You’ll be <em>safe</em> as long as you stand by me,” Quasi insisted, a note of finality in his voice that told her she’d be wise not to resist or try to argue. “I’ve dealt with…men like that a few times before, and am fully capable of defending you, Madellaine…”</p>
<p>Madellaine nodded, though his words had the exact opposite effect of calming her down. Yes, her new friend was strong, she could see that for herself, but no one escaped from Sarousch, especially not when he had Baba Yaga at his command.</p>
<p>“B—but you’re not <em>invincible</em>, Quasi!” Madellaine protested vehemently. “A—and I know I’m certainly not either.” She winced and gingerly rolled her wrists to crack them, trying to ignore the splotchy purple bruises developing on top of both her hands. “I’m <em>not</em> afraid of them,” she admitted, swallowing down past the lump in her throat as she blatantly lied to her new friend in front of him, though she cringed at hearing how small her voice sounded, remembering her nightmares. Of course, she was afraid of the twins, and especially of Master Sarousch. “I—I mean, I <em>am</em>, but um…” Madellaine didn’t know exactly what to say in this regard.</p>
<p>Quasi paused, quirking a brow at her as he folded his arms across his broad chest, shifting slightly to cross one leg over the other. “You’re in a far different place than I am, Madellaine,” he said, looking at her in a scrutinizing way that made her feel small. “You’re a woman, for starters, and it’s clear to me last night, whether you grew up around those twins or not, you don’t know how to handle them. I’m guessing that was the first time they’ve ever attempted to corner you on their own without your master?”</p>
<p>She blinked owlishly and shot the bell ringer a furtive, guilty look. Had she really been <em>that</em> obvious? Madellaine sighed.</p>
<p>“You have <em>no</em> idea what those twins could have done to you, what they probably would have done if given the opportunity,” he spat, a shadow of rage flitting across his pale features. “You’re lucky I came when I did, to have escaped with your life, and even luckier they didn’t hurt you worse than they already tried to,” Quasi growled, huffing in indignation. “It’s okay that you were frightened. That you didn’t understand the peril you were in. How could you possibly understand something you’ve never experienced before? Just as long as you understand now, that if you want to stay safe as long as you’re inside the cathedral, you’ll stick close to me, then that’s what’s important, Madellaine. We can’t change the past, but I can do whatever I can in my abilities to protect you, but I <em>need</em> you to try to stay more alert.”</p>
<p>“Y—You’re <em>wrong</em>, Quasi.” Madellaine quickly shook her head in disagreement, wanting to get her point across before a disagreement ensued. “I understand very well, and I don’t need to look any further for answers than what I went through tonight. You’re right about much. I—I don’t know a whole lot about…about men and the way their minds work,” she whispered faintly, a light pink blush speckling along her cheeks. “But I knew tonight how much danger I was in. I didn’t know the twins had followed me.”</p>
<p>Quasi simply stared at Madellaine as she continued. The circus performer was grateful at least, that the bell ringer was allowing her to contradict him without any kind of protest.</p>
<p>“You—you weren’t <em>there</em>, Quasi.” Madellaine frowned, furrowing her brows into a worried look as she remembered the twins’ faces alight with intrigue and looks that she could only describe as lust, along with all their verbal threats they had made. “You didn’t hear the things they said to me. I know you don’t know those two, but <em>I</em> do. Erik and Jakob quite like to gloat. They said they’d hurt me if I didn’t…if I didn’t go back to the camp with them, and they weren’t shy about what they were going to do…”</p>
<p>She offered a slight nervous little laugh, though Madellaine honestly found no humor at all in this situation she’d inadvertently dragged Quasimodo into, all because he’d had to save her life tonight. It was a skittish laugh laced with fear that she let out, the kind she would offer when extremely uncomfortable, but didn’t want to seem too visibly bothered.</p>
<p>Quasi stared at her but did not speak. He looked to be searching Madellaine’s blue eyes for something, which made the young blonde ringmaster’s assistant squirm a bit. What on earth was this man looking for?</p>
<p>“So…” Madellaine awkwardly cleared her throat and averted the bell ringer’s piercing, narrowed eyes. “I—If it seems like I wasn’t taking the situation seriously, it was because I didn’t understand it. I didn’t think they’d do that to me. In fact, I—I don’t know if I’ve ever been more scared in my life.”</p>
<p>The bell ringer sighed heavily, running his gloved hands through his hair for a moment before lowering it, resting them on his thighs as he continued to kneel into a crouch in front of her.</p>
<p>“I apologize, my friend. It’s bad enough that those monsters treated you so horribly,” he said to her, looking pained. “And that I didn’t…that I didn’t take you seriously about the…the gargoyles. You deserve better from a friend. You’re right. They <em>do</em> talk to me sometimes. If you say that you saw them, I <em>trust</em> you.”</p>
<p>She smiled, a tiny ghost of a smile flitting across her features as it felt like her heart soared as she searched the man’s eyes for any hint of a sign that Quasi was lying, and there was no hint or trace of it or any sort of malice in the man’s blue eyes.</p>
<p>“I should be the one protecting you, Madellaine,” he sighed, and sensing she was uncomfortable, he scooted a fraction of an inch closer, and no one was more surprised than he was when the girl leaned tiredly against the bell ringer, seemingly not put off at all by his ugliness, and rested her head against the crook of his shoulder as she closed her heavily-lidded and tired eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry if I seemed reckless, Quasi,” Madellaine sighed. “I—I really didn’t think those two would follow me. I suppose I don’t always do what I should. I—I tried to do what was right.”</p>
<p>“You’re safe now. Nothing will harm you up here. I promise. You—you should go ahead and try to go back to sleep, Madellaine,” Quasi spoke up softly, drawing in a sharp breath as the girl made no motion to lift her head from the crook of his shoulder. It sent a tingling, buzzing warmth all throughout him.</p>
<p>He decided that he liked this feeling, this heat that threatened to engulf him thus far whenever he was near this young woman’s presence. He watched in silence as the young circus performer nodded. She would get some sleep tonight and hopefully be feeling much better rested in the morning to help out.</p>
<p>“I hope in the morning, you will show me the rest of your tower. I'd like to see where you live. I have a good feeling about tomorrow,” Madellaine spoke in a yawn as she snuggled against Quasi’s sides, her eyes closed, but if she would have opened them and craned her neck upward, she would have seen the fiery heat creeping rapidly onto his cheeks.</p>
<p>His next thought voiced a similar thought as hers, though Quasi did not dare give it a voice, lest he jinx it and ruin it, then.</p>
<p><em>Me too</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning ahead for violence and a dead body, but hopefully, it's not too graphic.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>16</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>THE </strong>twins let out a ragged breath, with Erik turning his head to the side to spit, wincing as the coppery taste of iron lingered upon his own tongue. It took him a moment to realize it was blood, having bit down hard enough on his own tongue to cause it to bleed, while Jakob, on the hand, rolled one of his wrists to crack it to ensure there were no broken bones, though he flinched as he heard an egregiously loud <em>pop</em> as he rolled his neck to crack it.</p>
<p>They walked like their limbs did not belong to them anymore. Each step felt like a negotiation rather than an order. Everything <em>hurt</em>. It hurt like hell, what the wretch had done. Every damn thing. They winced to walk across their campsite’s location. Their legs felt shaky, like jelly, and couldn’t support their body, yet their heads were the only part of them that felt heavy. Their eyes squeezed shut as their faces contorted into a pained grimace. Never had they experienced such a beating in their entire life.</p>
<p>The twins’ minds collectively were a thousand miles away as they limped and staggered their way back to Sarousch’s camp, becoming harder and harder to veil their shared contempt for the abomination that had dared to attack them outside the church.</p>
<p>“We’ll <em>kill</em> it,” they spat in unison, speaking in tandem as they were prone to do from time to time. “God be damned, we’ll <em>kill</em> that thing if it’s the last thing we do.”</p>
<p>Erik was sporting the beginnings of a rather nasty-looking black and purple welt developing underneath his right eyelid, and Jakob’s collarbone looked as though a blood vessel underneath had rightly popped. Suddenly, the wizened old crone’s voice coming from behind as the twins made to stumble their way towards their caravan shook the pair of conjoined twins from their revenge.</p>
<p>The cackling of the witch’s laughter caused the fine hairs on the backs of their necks to stand upright. “I wouldn’t <em>do</em> that, boys, were I you. The bell ringer whom you met tonight is Sarousch’s finest prize, <em>and</em> the fact that you attempted to accost the young Barreau woman won’t sit well with your <em>master</em>, boys.”</p>
<p>“<em>What</em>?” Jakob and Erik exclaimed sourly as they turned on their heels to regard old Baba Yaga, who was sitting underneath the shade of an old pinewood tree, a haze of smoke emanating from her pipe that she smoked around her head.</p>
<p>“Indeed, it has not,” came a new voice, a cold listless voice from behind the trunk of the tree. The twins’ heart leaped into their throats as the tall, slender form of Sarousch slunk from in front.</p>
<p>The ringmaster moved to stand alongside Baba Yaga, who chewed on the end of her pipe though made no move to remove it. There was a bemused sort of glint in the old witch’s eyes as she rested her head and back against the bough of the tree, as though she were enjoying what punishment the twins were about to receive.</p>
<p>“Would you care to <em>explain</em> to me why you <em>followed</em> her?” he growled, his voice dangerously soft and quiet, which immediately made the pair of twins flinch. The brothers would have almost preferred it if Master Sarousch would have shouted.</p>
<p>The twins shoved down the annoyance and fear that flared within the pit of their chest and swallowed the lumps in their throats. Jakob turned his head to the side to spit out another mouthful of blood and stepped forward into the dim light closer to the firepit that old Baba Yaga had started to provide warmth.</p>
<p>Jakob snorted as he heard Sarousch’s audible gasp of surprise, as no doubt the man’s eyes made a quick scan of the twins’ various injuries, the cuts, and bruises that marred their otherwise handsome faces from the attack from that creature.</p>
<p>“To ensure her safety,” the twins answered succinctly.</p>
<p>“I see,” he answered slowly but surely in a dry, sardonic tone as he looked down his nose to where Baba sat perched on the ground, unmoved and as still and unresponsive as a marble statue. “And did it not <em>occur</em> to you that I need the girl’s pretty little face <em>unspoiled</em> if I’m to put on our <em>show</em> in a few days, hm?”</p>
<p>Dry gasps rose from the twins’ throats as they stammered, while Sarousch merely pursed his lips into a thin line, frowning.</p>
<p>“I <em>thought</em> not. The two of you are thick-headed at best.” He chuckled morosely as he turned his attention back towards Erik and Jakob, though the ringmaster’s expression darkened.</p>
<p>The twins felt their hearts once more leap up into their throats. They started to step forward but quickly realized how the panicked action would be viewed by their master, and somehow, by a miracle of God, managed to refrain themselves from doing it.</p>
<p>Though before either Jakob or Erik could open their mouths to begin stammering out an apology, Sarousch continued, clasping his arms neatly behind his back, and beginning to pace a leisurely line back and forth, back, and forth, in between Yaga and where the twins stood.</p>
<p>“I suppose considering how dim-witted the two of you are, then I <em>also</em> ought to be the one to inform you morons that by assaulting my prettiest ornament in our entire troupe, that you’ve committed a very grave error on your part, boys. Not only have you damaged my assistant’s face and made her less pretty, but that accursed wretch that lives in the tower is sure now not to come down after that horrid little display of aggression you exhibited towards Madellaine tonight, boys. I sent Madellaine to Notre Dame to bat those pretty lashes of hers, wile and beguile the monster to entice it to follow her here, and something tells me the girl’s beauty will have ensnared it, and he won’t want to allow her to return,” Sarousch growled, looking towards Baba for confirmation, and only when the witch nodded did he continue. “For that, I regret to inform you boys that you’ve made a grave mistake. One that I’m afraid I <em>cannot</em> let go <em>unpunished</em>, gentlemen.” He finished and folded his hands together calmly.</p>
<p>The twins could feel Sarousch’s narrowed eyes burning holes into them, as they forced themselves to try to breathe normally. Their fists were knotted into shaking balls at their sides. All they wanted was to turn on their heels and flee this man, and this place, but they did not dare move a single muscle.</p>
<p>Erik and Jakob knew they couldn’t let on to their master that their heartbeat was now little more than a throbbing mess of corded muscle that thundered relentlessly against its cage of bone and cartilage, and they were surprised Sarousch didn’t hear it.</p>
<p>The only way the conjoined twins knew their heart still beat was the sound of it pounding in their ears and the blood rushing to their eardrums too was almost just as deafening.</p>
<p>Neither twin was aware that they were pale as ghosts.</p>
<p>“I gave you both this one opportunity after the <em>last</em> little stunt you pulled around my assistant, boys,” Sarousch growled, stalking towards the twins. “And now you think you can make a <em>laughingstock</em> of me by disobeying my orders? I don’t <em>think</em> so.”</p>
<p>Erik and Jakob let out a horrible yell of anguish as Sarousch, like a panther stalking its prey in the shadows, lunged at the pair of twins and threw his body weight behind the fist that edged closer to their faces, ignoring the twins’ raised hands out of a show of cowardice, a pitiful attempt, really, to protect himself from the ringmaster’s sudden onset of wrath and sheer aggression. It hit Erik’s jaw with such force that blood pooled in his mouth.</p>
<p>There was a blunt sickening crack as Sarousch grasped Jakob’s head in his hands and brought his kneecap up to the man’s nose. The man’s nose broke. Sarousch let out a vicious snarl as he released Jakob’s head. Crimson leaked from the man’s nostrils, and his nose was now twisted horribly to the right side.</p>
<p>Baba felt herself give a start as the twins fell with a pained scream and a horrible, sickening sounding thud as the heel of Sarousch’s black leather boot smashed in Jakob’s face and stayed here. Yaga felt tense. She had always thought Sarousch’s violence to be in his words, every perceived flaw, the vulnerability of his chosen victims to torment.</p>
<p>Almost like twisting a finger in a wound. Sarousch was a man who would beat anyone smaller and weaker than himself to a pulp for saying or doing something he disagreed with, but he’d use that smooth, silver languid tongue of his to get out of trouble with anyone bigger or stronger than him.</p>
<p>But any provocation, no matter how small or insignificant, and the man’s temper would blow. His signature move was a solid uppercut to the jaw. Yaga had once witnessed one of his unsuspecting victims at the time to his horrible temper almost get their tongue cleaved in two when the bloke had least expected it. And this moment, Yaga supposed, was no different. He raised his black leather boot and crushed it in on the twins’ faces, again and again, over, and over, until there was nothing left.</p>
<p>Baba couldn’t even begin to count the number of stomps Sarousch’s boot crashed down on the screaming twins’ faces because she had to look away. It wasn’t enough to just kill them, no, though she supposed, in this case, death would have been mercy for what those twins had done, and Sarousch was not a merciful man.</p>
<p>The moment the twins ceased their screams was the moment when Sarousch ceased his temper tantrum with ragged, short, heavy breaths. Yaga felt the piercing stab of the handsome man’s glower and she did not respond as Sarousch continued his restless pacing back and forth in front of the tree.</p>
<p>When Sarousch was in the middle of a paroxysm as the man was now, there was absolutely no calming the ringmaster down, as evident by what she’d just witnessed, as the twins’ broken, battered form ceased their ragged breathing and fell silent. She sniffed and made an odd little noise of disapproval.</p>
<p>“Was this little display of yours <em>really</em> necessary, Sarousch? Is this bell ringer of yours worth all of this?” she added, scrunching in her nose in disgust as the unmistakable scent of blood wafted through her flaring nostrils like that of a bull’s.</p>
<p>Sarousch whirled on his heels, turning the worst of his wrath on the old crone, who remained unfazed by the man’s snarling savage growling and still rapidly flaring heated temper.</p>
<p>“Of <em>course,</em> it was <em>necessary</em>, Yaga! What have they <em>done</em>? If that—that <em>thing</em> refuses to leave its tower and Madellaine does not return, then I have no <em>choice</em> but to go up there myself and do it the <em>hard</em> way. It has to be captured and brought back here, Baba!” The last vestiges of his patience had long since run out as he continued his restless pacing, not even noticing that he was stepping in a small puddle of blood emanating from the twins.</p>
<p>Baba Yaga flinched as the man kicked out at the twins’ unconscious forms before she heard Sarousch let out a low warning growl in anger and irritation at ruining his little plan.</p>
<p>“Oh, these—these blind, bloody <em>fools</em>!” he roared, turning towards the twins, whose battered form lay unconscious, fading.</p>
<p>Sarousch let out a snarl of frustration, almost foaming rabid at the mouth in his surge of adrenaline venting his veins as he tugged on a lock of his black hair.</p>
<p>What had these two done? He <em>knew</em> he should have killed these miserable twins when he’d had the chance. Sarousch spat in disgust near Erik’s face and seemed to relish and bask in the twins’ labored breaths, ragged and faint until their chest rose and fell for the last time and moved no more.</p>
<p>“Mark my <em>words</em>, Yaga,” he snarled as Yaga scooted forward from her perch underneath the shade of the tree, picking up her walking stick and poking at the twins’ body. “The <em>wretch</em> in that tower will be <em>mine</em>. I don’t care if I have to drag him out of it kicking and screaming. But something tells me the girl’s going to my job for me, but I think I’ll pay her a little <em>visit</em>.”</p>
<p>“In the morning,” Yaga warbled, scrunching her bulbous nose in disgust, and turning away from the twins’ corpse, thinking it was going to be she who was delegated to bury the body, if at all.</p>
<p>He airily dismissed her claim as he silently agreed with the old hag, feeling the tension leave in his shoulders as he exhaled long and slow breaths through his flaring nostrils as the worst of his temper began to dissipate, now that the admittedly pesky problem of these troublesome twins was solved, the only thing that mattered was ensuring the accursed demon came to see him.</p>
<p>Sarousch heaved a heavy, haggard-sounding sigh as he pinched at the bridge of his slender nose with his thumb and forefinger, already feeling the beginnings of a splitting migraine coming on. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to head back to his caravan and drink himself into a stupor until sleep claimed him.</p>
<p>“Bury the body, Yaga, somewhere where the authorities won’t find it,” he barked hoarsely in a rough, grating voice as he stalked off towards his caravan, leaving Yaga alone to deal with the twins’ body. “For your sake, Madellaine, I hope that you can handle this because if <em>I</em> have to come up there, you won’t like it.”</p>
<p><em>May God be with you, then</em>, he thought angrily through gritted teeth, the infectious thought spreading through his mind.</p>
<p><em>You’ll need it. Because tomorrow, I’m coming for you</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A bit of a longer (and fluffier) chapter this time to make up for the shortness and the darker content of the last chapter! Hope you enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>17</strong>
</p><p><strong>SHE </strong>felt as though she’d barely lain down to sleep and had managed to close her eyes and drift off into an uneasy sleep, when the loudest peal she’d ever heard reverberated through the man’s tower loft, keenly felt by the young blonde circus performer as she bolted upright from her pile of blankets with a start and clamped her hands over her tender ears, filled with a loud, fatigued ringing. Each strike was a hammer pounding against her head, reverberating her delicate brain in its skull.</p><p>The young blonde ringmaster's assistant let out a cry though the noise was immediately drowned out by the bells.</p><p>Madellaine sat up, blinking rapidly in order to clear away the crust that had accumulated at the edges of her eyes during sleep, and shook her head wildly to try to clear away the bells’ ringing peals that still sounded in her head, lingering long after the noise had stopped.</p><p>Slowly, she stood, a tiny groan escaping her lips, discovering she was still sore from the twins’ would-be assault on her from last night, and that walking wasn’t as easy.</p><p><em>Sarousch is going to be furious with me if he comes looking,</em> she thought, chewing on the wall of her mouth as she limped and shuffled towards a stool in front of a simple chest of drawers, and upon the wall hung a simplistic-looking mirror.</p><p>She sat down in front of it and gaped at her reflection, cringing at the ugly splotchy purple welt from where Erik had hit her developing just underneath her right eyelid. Her head felt heavy, her legs didn’t want to work, and her hands trembled as she raked her slender fingers through her choppy chin-length blonde strands, hating how she felt utterly stupid and humiliated.</p><p>She dressed quickly in her short-sleeved long ivory chemise and a dark forest green overdress once she was satisfied her hair was tamed down as much as it was going to possibly get, trying to ignore the swooping feeling in the pit of her churning stomach that she’d woken up alone. Had Quasi abandoned her?</p><p><em>No</em>, Madellaine thought frantically, trying to create a scenario that would explain away his absence now that the bells had stopped ringing. <em>Quasi’s a good friend, he—he wouldn’t do that to me. Would he?</em> Her mind raced with a dozen possibilities.</p><p>She rushed out of the man’s simple sleeping nook, leaving the curtain that he had hung up on one of the support beams wide open in her haste to search for where her friend had gone.</p><p>The moment her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the morning as cracks of sunlight streamed in through the gaps of the wooden rafters high above her head, Madellaine felt her breaths catch in her throat. Quasimodo’s home was…truly <em>magnifique</em>.</p><p>Although dimly lit and quite drafty (she suspected in winter months, it could get quite cold up here if you weren’t adequately prepared with a heavy cloak and several blankets!) the tower loft she found herself in momentarily stole away her breath. The massive space had a calming effect on the young blonde, causing the circus performer to be left with a feeling that she was not sure she could quite describe. Almost as if she were <em>home</em>. A feeling that she had admittedly never experienced before.</p><p>Above her head on the upper platform of the mezzanine, the dozens of huge brass and iron bells rested idly, now that they were no longer ringing, their ropes dangling above her like snakes off a branch. Deciding to take advantage of the momentary solitude, her eyes were drawn to a long rectangular wooden table covered by a large green tattered woolen blanket, a tarp of sorts.</p><p>And dangling above said table hung beautiful shards of multi-colored stained glass fragments in a variety of different colors that clinked gently whenever a light breeze blew through. The gentle chimes were soothing to her fractured soul. Her curiosity surging to untold heights, it quickly got the better of her as her inquisitive nature itched to see what was beneath the tarp.</p><p>Taking a moment to pause to lift up the tarp, Madellaine marveled at the wondrous sight before her, at the brilliant craftsmanship her eyes now bore witness to. Tucked under the tarp that she quickly flung away and cast to the side, wanting a better look without the thick cloth impeding her vision by casting shadows, Madellaine now found herself looking at an entire wooden scale model of Notre Dame de Paris herself, coupled with the village below in the town square and model figures of the people.</p><p>Awestruck, she picked up the figurine of what appeared to be the baker, laughing in delight at the creativity of the work she saw.</p><p>“What’s this one?” she whispered. “I didn’t notice it before…”</p><p>Her eyes were drawn to one in particular aside from the figurine of Quasimodo’s own likeness, clad in green, the figure’s fiery red hair the most prominent detail, and his brilliant blue eyes. Setting that one back in its place at the top of the towers where she had originally found it, she picked up the likeness of Esmeralda, marveling at her figure’s detail.</p><p>Briefly, perhaps selfishly and inappropriately, she wondered if her new friend would one day make a figurine of her and what it would look like.</p><p>Before Madellaine made to turn away and continue her search for the cathedral’s bell ringer, sincerely hoping he’d not gone downstairs, another figurine caught her eye, this one drastically different from the others. The red-tailed chaperone was unmistakable, though the figure of the infamous and reviled Judge Claude Frollo looked as though the young man had plunged it into the flame of a candle and burnt most of his figurine away.</p><p><em>He must have burnt Frollo’s figure</em>, Madellaine thought, her blue eyes widening in abject horror.<em> I guess there’s no love lost there</em>.</p><p>She gulped nervously and gingerly felt her fingers wind around the figure, clutching it close to her heart, not sure of her reasoning for doing so. She had heard the stories from others in their troupe their first night in Paris, and little snippets of her conversation with that strange chap, Monsieur Clopin came to mind.</p><p>Madellaine wondered how much of it was the truth and what parts had been enhanced and made fanciful for the likes of the children.</p><p><em> Only one way to find out</em>, the curious voice inside her mind advised. <em>Why don’t you find him? Ask him to tell you? </em>Not finding the gentle giant up on the upper level of the mezzanine where his bells were, Madellaine decided to search outside on the balcony where the two had sat yesterday morning.</p><p>She bolted out of the north bell tower loft and had barely stepped over the threshold that separated the balcony walkway from the man’s tower loft when she heard the man’s unfamiliar sweet tenor-like tones wafting through the air, talking to a figure.</p><p>For a moment, her heart lurched and dropped to the pit of her stomach, hoping that someone else wasn’t up here with her.</p><p><em>What if it’s Sarousch</em>? She thought wildly, her eyes widening, her stomach going sick with dread at the very thought.</p><p>Though her curiosity was outweighing her fear at this moment, Madellaine crept forward for a closer look, straining her ears to listen as she slinked her way along the edge of the wall, careful to remain being spotted until she wanted him to see her.</p><p>Madellaine easily spotted the tall man’s crouched form as he rested in a rather precarious position on top of the balustrade’s railing, seemingly deep in a casual conversation with one of the same monsters of stone that she’d sworn had moved last night.</p><p>She drew in a sharp breath and felt a familiar twinge of fear as she swore, she was sure, oh, yes, she was sure that one of the three gargoyles that had perched themselves on top of the ledge had moved and was—was blinking at Notre Dame’s bell ringer.</p><p><em>Oh, my God, it’s finally happening. I—I’ve gone insane</em>, she thought, tampering down her urge to scream as she bit her lip.</p><p>Nevertheless, she forced herself to stifle the horrified gasp that threatened to escape her lips as she could have sworn her eyes were making a sport of her mind as one of the statues of stone flexed their wings. She thought she heard a voice other than Quasi’s speaking to the man, but she couldn’t discern what was being said, but she <em>did</em> hear what her friend said by his answer.</p><p>“I…I don’t know <em>how</em> exactly it happened, Victor, it just did,” he breathed, his quiet, reserved voice sounding more shocked than relieved. This gave her pause. What were they talking about? Carefully, she inched forward for a closer look.</p><p>She hadn’t even heard him leave the sleeping nook this morning. If she were being honest with herself, she’d not heard much of anything at all since she had somehow fallen asleep.</p><p>Considering the night that she had last night, and the fact that she still felt somewhat feverish and weak, Madellaine would have thought it a miracle if she’d gotten any sleep at all last night, and the fact that she had, was nothing short of an ordinary miracle. She felt certain were it not for the bells being rung for Lauds, she might have continued to keep sleeping, though now that the cool spring breeze kissed her cheeks and blew her short blonde hair off her face, the girl was grateful to be wide awake.</p><p>Wide awake and alert, Madellaine drew in a sharp breath and listened as the bell ringer said something in response to one of his…<em>his friends</em>, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping her mind was just playing tricks on her as a grey gargoyle moved.</p><p>“A—after the way that she was so <em>kind</em> to me, I—I didn’t think she would come back, and when I saw she was in trouble, I—I had to help her, Laverne,” Quasi murmured under his breath. “I couldn’t just <em>leave</em> her down there to get <em>hurt</em>. She—she’s not afraid of me, you guys. She—she’s staying up here to help me.”</p><p>Madellaine stiffened, wondering if she kept as still as possible, if she would see one of the statues move, perhaps even the same short, stout fat swine that had frightened her bad enough last night. A tiny part of her dismissed it as a product of her feverish-still and an overactive imagination, but the other part of her remained unconvinced.</p><p>
  <em>Quasi said he could see them too…</em>
</p><p>“You should have been more careful, Hugo,” she heard the bell ringer’s voice harden slightly, taking on a more aggressive stance. “You <em>scared</em> the poor thing half to death. She <em>saw</em> you.”</p><p>Madellaine let out a tiny hiss that was thankfully carried away by the light spring breeze that gusted towards them where they stood on the balcony, with Quasi unaware that he and his stone companions were silently being observed by the circus performer. She forced her breaths to come to an almost standstill as her new friend continued speaking.</p><p>“I—I’m sorry I didn’t come to you last night and give you an update on everything that’s happened, b-but I was just so…<em>tired</em>,” Quasi continued, almost an afterthought as he patted a gloved hand on one of the gargoyles’ horns, a female by the looks of her, Madellaine keenly observed.</p><p>She didn’t hear what—if <em>anything</em>—the three stone figures said in response to his statement, though what her friend said next shocked her, and almost elicited a squeak of surprise to erupt from her lips, and she likely would have had she not clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her sound of surprise and wonder.</p><p>“I…I should go <em>check</em> on her? Do you think she might even be up? I—I hope the bells didn’t wake her up, she was running a horrible fever,” he said suddenly. “B—but what would I <em>say</em>?”</p><p>The emphasis that the gentle giant placed on his last question almost shattered Madellaine’s already fractured heart into an untold number of fragments. She was truly touched at the lengths and depths he seemed to care for her, in a way that, throughout her entire life as a member of Sarousch’s troupe, she’d never had before. Not even from old Baba Yaga.</p><p>She took a deep breath, slowly lowering her hand from her mouth, figuring now was as good a time as any to step out from behind the wall and show herself. Taking another long, slow exhale to quell her nerves and racing heart, she stepped forward and awkwardly cleared her throat.</p><p>“You could try saying <em>hello</em>? It’s what one <em>usually</em> does to offer a greeting in the morning among friends, Quasi,” Madellaine offered shyly, the hint of a smile tugging on her lips, turning them upwards, as the man instantly flinched upon hearing her voice and whirled around at the waist, sliding off the balustrade with ease, nervously wringing his hands together, looking quite awed.</p><p>“M—Madellaine, I—I didn’t know that you would be…<em>awake</em>,” he said awkwardly, casting somewhat of a frantic glance towards his now-lifeless and unmoved stone companions that rested idly at their feet as she took a slow half step forward.</p><p>He swallowed down thickly past the lump in his throat, casting a skittish glance towards the gargoyles, cursing himself for not being more careful and attentive as to his new surroundings.</p><p>“I—I hope that the bells did not disturb your sleep,” he muttered after a long and drawn-out awkward pause, trying to ignore the mad blush speckling in his cheeks. “Th—they can be rather loud. I—I tried to be quiet for you this morning, b-but if it’s going to be too disruptive, I—I’m sure the Archdeacon will let you stay in one of the spare cloister rooms downstairs, Madellaine.”</p><p>Her brain stuttered for a moment and her eyes took in more of the morning sunlight than she expected to. Every part of her went on pause while her thoughts struggled to catch up.</p><p>Instinctively, without even realizing she was doing it, she reached out and set a hand on Quasi’s right shoulder, giving it a light, reassuring little squeeze, chuckling a little bit at how pink and flushed his cheeks were becoming as she closed off the gap of space between them. She hoped that she had not given him the impression in any way whatsoever that she wasn’t at all grateful for the man’s kind offer to allow her a place to stay here…with <em>him</em>.</p><p>The thought plastered as a quiet vibration under her skin, though it wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant feeling altogether.</p><p>“N—<em>no</em>,” she stammered urgently, hoping to instantly quell whatever feelings of doubt she had inadvertently given him either last night or yesterday morning to cause the poor man to think that she was not appreciative of all that he had done for her. She was, and she hadn’t the faintest idea of how to begin to thank him.</p><p>Exhaling slowly through her nose, she closed her eyes and opened them after a moment or two, feeling she needed a minute.</p><p>“I…” Madellaine paused, recognizing she needed to be careful in her verbiage. “I don’t think that I would feel quite as <em>safe</em> downstairs in one of the cloister cells as I did last night, my friend. It helped me to sleep more soundly knowing you were close,” she murmured shyly, downcasting her gaze to look at her boots. If she would have looked up and met the bell ringer’s gaze, she would have seen a light that seemed to ignite in his pale blue orbs.</p><p>Quasi’s eyes were trained on some invisible specter at a spot behind the young blonde circus performer’s head, his heavy eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, his blue irises too stationary.</p><p>It was as if his brain was suffering a massive blank and was struggling to search for something to say as he processed her confession. She felt…<em>safe</em> last night around him. Not frightened, not disgusted, but <em>safe</em>. The thought caused a spiraling warmth, a pleasant feeling, one that Quasi decided he liked, to spread in the pit of his stomach and seep its way slowly up into his broad chest.</p><p>Madellaine moved into the bell ringer’s line of sight, touching his cheek with the side of her delicate thumb, a sensation that sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine, her lips forming a pensive little grin. Quasi’s head tilted upward to her face, his eyes slowly sliding back into focus as he came out of it.</p><p>Before she knew it, a tiny little smile snaked its way onto her lips as she giggled a bit at the man’s stupefied expression. She couldn’t resist teasing her new friend. Just a little bit right now.</p><p>“After all, you <em>did</em> say that you wanted me to stick close to you, <em>didn’t</em> you?” she teased, biting down on her bottom lip, and wriggling her thin eyebrows at him. “For my protection, Quasi? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re starting to harbor <em>feelings</em>.”</p><p>The pink blush that intensified along the length of his entire face was almost worth her words. It took him a second to realize that she was teasing him, and she allowed herself to relax as she watched his shoulders slump forward as the tension left an awkward little lopsided smile flitted across his somewhat-handsome features as he caught on to the fact that she was merely teasing. She rolled her eyes to herself and playfully swatted at his arm. It was then that her gaze drifted down towards the balcony’s terrace, the stone floor, wherein he had rested a simple basket.</p><p>He followed her gaze, having noticed where she was looking, and shot her a lopsided, playful grin.</p><p>“Breakfast,” he announced shyly, the light spring breeze blowing his fiery red bangs off of his forehead as he spoke. “I—I didn’t know what you—what you might want to eat when you woke up, I—if you’d even be hungry at all, so I had Sister Alice get a variety, milady. Th—there’s some grapes, some Brie cheese, and a baguette.”</p><p>After an awkward moment of Madellaine staring at the covered basket in a stunned stupor, he awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I—if you’re feeling up for it, that is, I—I won’t <em>force</em> you to eat with me. I—I can <em>understand</em> if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t want someone to be put off by my <em>hideousness</em> while eating either,” he mumbled, his tone suddenly shifting to a much more somber countenance, and it broke her.</p><p>Madellaine shook her head, though quickly realizing what the gesture must look like to him as his face fell, crestfallen, and immediately began to stammer while trying to correct her error. Madellaine, saddened by the low opinion he held of himself, felt her face fall as she looked at him.</p><p>“Please don’t talk about yourself like that, Quasi. It hurts me to hear it. You are <em>not</em> hideous, my friend. Far from it. I hope that you won’t talk about yourself like this anymore while I’m around, will you?” Madellaine begged, biting down on her lip, and only when the bell ringer nodded, though he looked stunned, did she continue. “I—I would love to eat with you, Quasi. I’m <em>starving</em>,” she joked weakly, forcing a rather strained smile onto her features, though she knew it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Madellaine could only hope that Quasi didn’t misunderstand the meaning behind it. She strongly disliked that he held so low an opinion of himself.</p><p>In her eyes, he was handsome. Tall. Strong. Proud. He carried himself with such gentle grace, an effortless nobility that he didn’t even have to try, whereas she, on the other hand, was sad to admit it to herself, was a bit of a clumsy klutz.</p><p>She took a moment to get herself situated as the wind tousled her hair off her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deep to fill her lungs with fresh air, thinking she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so rejuvenated. To her, it gave her a new life.</p><p><em>Hopefully one far away from Sarousch and his filth</em>, Madellaine thought with a tiny sigh, before shoving aside thoughts of her master, for now, not wanting thoughts of the circus’s ringmaster to dampen what promised to be a good day.</p><p>The City of Lovers out and below their vantage point was already bustling with activity, the people going about their lives.</p><p>“It’s beautiful out here,” she whispered, peering out at the city, feeling like it was just the two of them on top of the world as she dipped into the basket Quasi had motioned towards and plucked out a handful of grapes, picking a handful out before passing the rest to him in a cloth. “It’s like…I don’t know, seeing a different city up here. It makes it easy to forget how cruel the world is. Things almost look different. <em>Friendly</em>, I would say. These moments are so fleeting, but I guess since you live up here, my friend, you have a lot of them. Don’t you?” Madellaine asked.</p><p>She swiveled her head to meet the man’s blue eyes were her own, the intensity of her icy-blue irises making the bell ringer blush. He cringed and inwardly cursed himself for having been caught staring at her and immediately turned his head away sharply, blushing in embarrassment. Had he really been that obvious? He shouldn’t have been staring. It was rude, as Victor was so fond of pointing that out to him. “I…” Quasi stammered, wracking his brain for something to say, but nothing came to him.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” Madellaine said again, returning her gaze to the blue sky littered with clouds above their heads, fixated on the city in front of her, not aware that Quasi, on the other hand, was fixated a different view, her. and unable to pull his gaze away.</p><p>Not that he <em>wanted</em> to. He would be more than content to sink into eternity with this young mademoiselle by his side if she were not at all put off by his grotesque hideousness. Quasi sighed.</p><p>Madellaine tried her hardest to sneak little glances here and there at her friend while they ate in silence for a moment, pondering over what the best way to ask him was about the burnt carving of the Judge that she’d not realized she had brought it out with her until she glanced down at her lap and saw it sitting idly.</p><p>Quasi’s gaze followed where she was looking and the moment his eyes landed on the burnt familiar figurine that he’d thought he’d been careful to hide, he felt his breaths catch in his throat and a wave of terror wrack his entire body, as just bearing witness to his father figure’s old carving caused a series of memoirs to flit through his mind, scolding’s, the fire, Esmeralda…</p><p>Things he would rather not, for the time being in such pleasant company, think about. He wondered how she’d found it.</p><p>Madellaine felt a light pink blush creep onto her cheeks as an embarrassment and hot shame marred her features.</p><p>“I..” she started to say, in an attempt to explain that she had only been looking around the man’s living space and had taken it out of pure curiosity, wanting to know why his carving had been burnt, when another flash of grey moved from between her peripherals and she felt herself jump at the unexpected movement as she swore one of the gargoyles’ wings gave a flutter as it shrank back into the shadows, though which one it was, she didn’t know.</p><p>For all she knew, all of the gargoyles up here alongside Quasimodo had names. What she thought she saw made her almost burst out laughing. Clearly, living under such harsh conditions under Sarousch’s thumb was sending her mind insane.</p><p>Confused at her outburst as, despite her best efforts to quell it, a reflexive gasp escaped her throat as her face drained of color as her attention was fixated off towards their immediate left, Quasi raised an eyebrow at her and pursed his lips into a frown.</p><p>“Wh—what’s wrong?” he asked, immediately fearing the worst, that perhaps one of her injuries was flaring up and causing her pain, or that her fever from last night had returned. He leaned forward and made to press one of his hands to her forehead, though Madellaine, not unkindly, ducked out of his reach, still keeping her gaze fixated in the shadows, near the tower loft.</p><p>“I—I thought I saw…the gargoyles again,” Madellaine whispered faintly, slowly swiveling her gaze back towards the front and turning her head slightly to look into Quasi’s eyes. “When I…when I came out here, you were <em>talking</em> to a few of them. You—you called one of them Laverne and the other Victor.”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow and quickly looked away, hoping the guilt wasn’t evident on his face or in his eyes as his blush deepened. The bell ringer flinched as the circus performer continued. “Well, they were—they were <em>moving</em> a-and <em>alive</em>,” she whispered breathlessly, drawing in a breath, and holding it.</p><p>“Um, w—were they?” Quasi asked, stammering and fumbling over his words, doing his best to hide the distress in his normally calm and collected voice as he gave the blonde a quick-once over, paying special particular attention to her forehead. No longer was it clammy and beaded in sweat, so it appears that the poultice that Sister Alice had brought up last night had done the trick in ridding the circus performer of her pesky fever.</p><p>Madellaine furrowed her brows at the nervous look on her friend’s face, especially at the sheen of sweat starting to throng along the front of the man’s temples and slick down the sides of his face. “Tell me I’m <em>not</em> crazy,” she begged, a note of urgency and desperation in her voice as she clung to his forearms. “I <em>know</em> what I saw, they were—they were <em>alive</em>. Last night and just now!”</p><p>Quasi released a tense breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding as he wildly searched his brain for something to say.</p><p>“N—no, no, I—it’s <em>not</em> stupid and you’re <em>not</em> crazy,” he said firmly, surprised at hearing the hardness in his voice, swearing he could almost feel the irises of his eyes darkening to a cerulean hue in color the angrier he became.</p><p>He didn’t like her thinking of herself in what he believed to be odious, self-deprecating terms.</p><p>“I believe you,” he said quietly, his gaze drifting down to her hands, both of which were firmly clamped around his forearms, tightly. “And you’re right. I—I do talk to them sometimes when I have the chance. They listen. They talk to me back. But they’re…shy,” he finished, chewing at the wall of his mouth while he fell silent, unable to remember when the last time it was that he felt so flustered. He’d never openly talked to Esmeralda about the gargoyles, not in the way at least that Madellaine took an interest.</p><p>“Really?” Madellaine whispered in a breathless voice, her almond-shaped blue eyes wide to the brim with astonishment.</p><p>The young bell ringer nodded, and as he turned his gaze slightly to better meet hers, she decided that she was quick to like the sparkle and glimmer of mysteriousness in his pale blue orbs that almost seemed alluring to the young circus performer, in a way. True, he wasn’t that much to look at in terms of his physical attributes, yes, and even Madellaine hated to admit it, though there was something of his genuine warmth that was contagious.</p><p>“Everything talks to me, y—you just have to open up your senses and listen. The bells, the stained glass windows, the—the gargoyles, they’re my…my friends,” Quasimodo admitted in a quiet voice, his blue eyes taking on a twinkling sheen, chuckling a little at her bemused and awestruck expression as she took advantage of her moment of speechlessness to study his face, memorizing every detail, seemingly wanting to commit it into her memories.</p><p>Suddenly, he felt himself becoming quite warm. Either he was getting overheated in his thick linen long-sleeved undershirt and his heavy woolen green tunic or he was embarrassed.</p><p>Either one seemed possible as his chest constricted and tightened.</p><p>“N—no, forget I said anything, I shouldn’t have said, it’s—it’s <em>stupid</em>!” he cried out, startling the young blonde woman with his sudden display of aggression as he brought his gloved palm up to his forehead and smacked it, dragging his face down alongside his cheek, a look of shame and exasperation on his face.</p><p>He didn’t allow himself a moment to register the shocked expression on Madellaine’s face as he vehemently shook his head, cursing himself for mentioning this to her in the first place, and turning away. Quasi ground his teeth together in flaring anger and annoyance, but not at her, with himself. Though before he could stew and sulk in it, the gentle but firm grip of one of her small, slender hands on top of his shoulder pulled him from his torpid spiraling dervish of dark thoughts currently clouding his mind.</p><p>“No, no, Quasi, I don’t think that!” she protested in a breathy little squeak that in Quasi’s mind, sounded adorable.</p><p>She bit down on her bottom lip and curled her fingers around a slight fistful of the man’s tunic, hoping the simple gesture would be enough to calm him down. “I like your friends.”</p><p>Madellaine bravely lifted her face to Quasi’s to find the same sorrow reflected there at his own self-deprecation. Part of her was so overwhelmed at his support for her thus far into their new friendship, that she thought she would like nothing more than to throw herself into the deep blue pools that were his eyes.</p><p>The part of her that won, however, was the part that wished to crawl away and hide, sensing that Quasimodo needed a minute.</p><p>Madellaine snapped herself back to her learned stoicism that she liked to think that she had mastered throughout the years, living as Sarousch’s assistant, and hid her emotions just as quickly as she allowed them to the surface, parting her lips open slightly to speak, though before she could, a familiar deep baritone to the cathedral’s bell ringer rent the air behind them.</p><p>“Ah, young lady, I thought that you would be up here, mademoiselle,” came the man’s smooth voice, fluid-like butter, eliciting a startled gasp of surprise from Madellaine and Quasi as the pair collectively whirled around on their heels, not having anticipated company this morning other than one another, especially not the Archdeacon, who smiled kindly at them and clasped his hands together in front of his middle before speaking. “My apologies, milady. Quasimodo.” He gave a brief incline towards their church’s bell ringer, whose blush intensified as he ducked his head and dipped into an awkward sort of half-bow, a bit of a challenge for him due to the nature of his deformities and his tall stature. “I merely came to check on our newest guest and see how she fares. You are looking much better, mademoiselle…?”</p><p>“Madellaine de Barreau, monsieur, a..and I really owe my gratitude towards Quasimodo. He...he cared for me throughout the night, stayed by my side, sir. I owe him a debt that I cannot repay, and I thank you, Your Grace, for allowing me to claim sanctuary here within the church for the time being. I don't know if I can ever repay you for your kindness,” she squeaked, suddenly finding the floor beneath her boots to be much more interesting than the daunting task of daring to look into the Archdeacon’s green eyes.</p><p>The Archdeacon chuckled and held up a hand to stop her. "There is no need for this, milady. We will never turn away a weary soul in God's house. You may stay as long as you need."</p><p>Madellaine swallowed down hard past the lump in her throat and inclined her head. " Thank you, monsieur," she whispered in a breathless voice, blinking back an onset of tears.</p><p>Quasi, sensing Madellaine’s growing discomfort in the presence of the holy clergyman, for reasons that were beyond his ability to comprehend, did not want his friend to suffer and awkwardly cleared his throat and took a cautious step towards the Archdeacon in the hopes of ascertaining the reason for his visit.</p><p>“I—is there a <em>problem</em>, Your Grace?” he stammered nervously, the beads of sweat still sliding down his temples, but now for an entirely different reason. He feared that she would be taken away, that the church would not allow her to stay in his tower, despite the Archdeacon having consented and more or less had given his blessing to Quasimodo during the night last night.</p><p>The Archdeacon furrowed his brows together as he turned his sharp gaze towards the young blonde, who was looking strangely like she wanted nothing more than to slink away and hide. Perhaps she was just shy, it was hard for the deacon to tell, but one thing was certain: she was experiencing trouble meeting his eyes. “No, my boy, there’s no trouble. I was merely coming to check on the young mademoiselle’s physical health and to inform her that she has a visitor downstairs in the nave to see you, miss.”</p><p>Madellaine blinked, a sinking feeling of dread seeping into the pit of her churning stomach. She hoped her eyes weren’t betraying her current emotions.</p><p><em>I bet Sarousch came to see me</em>, she thought bitterly, grinding her teeth in fear and annoyance. Not wanting her true intentions to be accidentally discovered, Madellaine swallowed past the lump in her throat and gathered the skirts of her chemise and dark green overdress, and sank into a low but brief curtsy of gratitude towards the deacon.</p><p>“Th—thank you, Your Grace,” she stammered, her voice coming out as a low, breathy squeak. “I—I will be right down.”</p><p>Satisfied, the Archdeacon inclined his head to acknowledge that he had heard the young woman’s words and excused himself.</p><p>“Well, I…I’d better go see who it is, but I’ll be right back,” Madellaine announced uncomfortably as she awkwardly turned to face Quasi, who was looking more than a little confused at the concept of his new friend having a visitor so early in the morning.</p><p>She staggered backward away from him to turn to head into the tower loft as though the floor around her were on fire.</p><p>Remembering her courtesies, she added, “Th—thank you, Quasi. For…for understanding.” She bashfully turned her head to eye the bell ringer from the corner of her lowered gaze. “When I come back, will you show me the rest of your tower? I—I’d like to see it?” she asked and offered him a shy smile when he nodded.</p><p>Madellaine swallowed past the lump in her throat, truly grateful for Quasimodo’s kindness but overcome with awkwardness. And before Quasi could answer further, she disappeared into the tower loft, down the mezzanine’s platform that would take her to the stairwell that led to the main sanctuary, leaving Quasimodo to watch Madellaine go in stunned silence.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>18</strong>
</p><p><strong>MADELLAINE </strong>fought hard to control the throbbing of her heartbeats in her chest as she fled down the stairwell as fast as she possibly could, a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach that she knew all too well who her ‘surprise visitor’ was that was waiting for her in the nave.</p><p>There was a part of her that wished Quasi had come down with her. After all, he’d <em>promised</em> to help protect her.</p><p>But the other more rational and less emotional side of her brain told her that her going down alone was a good thing. Her master could not possibly hurt her while within the walls of her newfound sanctuary, though Madellaine already knew Sarousch wasn’t going to like hearing that she had no plans to come back.</p><p>If going by herself to see whatever it was that her master wanted of her meant that she could help repay the favor in kind by helping Quasimodo to not get <em>hurt</em>, after all, that he had done for her last night, then she was willing to suffer Sarousch’s wrath.</p><p>She stepped off the bottommost step of the stone stairwell, wishing for nothing more than the ability to turn on the heels of her boots and disappear right back up to the north bell tower loft. To refuse to come down without Quasi by her side, but then she knew it would only succeed in enticing her master to come up of his own volition, and she knew bloody well what would happen to both of them if Sarousch was forced to do it.</p><p><em>No</em>, she thought bitterly to herself as her stomach swooped and churned as she walked at a leisurely, almost snail’s pace, towards the nave, where she could see Sarousch’s towering slender figure sitting idly at the back of one of the pews still having been left out from this morning Laud’s and Mass session. <em>It’s better this way that I come alone,</em> Madellaine thought angrily as the abrupt bitterness in her stomach only worsened.</p><p>“Why are you here?” she whispered in a hoarse voice, careful to keep her voice low, half afraid and half outraged that he doubted her abilities so much as to constantly be checking on her.</p><p><em>To ensure I follow through with his stupid plan</em>, her conscience piped up rather unhelpfully from the darkest corners of her mind as she gingerly approached the pew and rather awkwardly slid into the spot next to her master, all the while Sarousch never took his cold, listless gaze off the statue of the eternal mother, the Virgin Mary, with which he seemed fixated.</p><p>She swallowed down hard as Madellaine shot her master a nervous and quite apprehensive glance out of the corner of her eyes as she took a moment to get herself situated, resting her shaking hands in her lap, and smoothing the skirts of her chemise and dark green overdress. Madellaine felt her face drain of colors as all the blood left her face as Sarousch slowly swiveled his gaze to his left to better look her in the eyes, his narrowed eyes making a quick scan of the physical blows she had been dealt by the twins.</p><p>Her black eye underneath her swollen right side of her face was the last thing he lingered on, and his gaze drifting towards her lips, no doubt having noticed the bleeding cut at the left edge.</p><p>Madellaine flinched, her facial muscles instinctively tensing as the young blonde circus performer prepared herself for another of Master Sarousch’s harsh pelts, the stinging of his angular palm across her cheek for allowing herself to become ‘not-so-pretty,’ in his words.</p><p>There was no amount of makeup or powders that would conceal this black eye in time for his show.</p><p>But that moment for the girl never came at all. Her blue eyes flung wide open, or rather, her one good eye not swollen shut and bruised did, feeling certain she was dreaming. This was perhaps the first time in his life that Sarousch hadn’t hit her for failing to follow through with what he had asked of Madellaine.</p><p>To her surprise, Master Sarousch, though he did not look at all pleased to see his assistant’s beauty spoiled and littered with purple and blue splotchy bruises, was looking, well…rather <em>calm</em>.</p><p>It sent a shudder of anticipation down her spine. This was <em>not</em> good. It was never a good thing when Sarousch was so calm.</p><p>Madellaine almost would have preferred it if he’d flown into one of his tirades. Scream, hit her, cause enough of an ungodly scene to allow the Archdeacon to have him removed from the church’s premises, though she knew Sarousch wasn’t <em>stupid</em>.</p><p>Far from it. Causing a scene here on Holy Ground was the last thing her master was going to do, and both of them knew it.</p><p>Madellaine swallowed down thickly past the growing lump in her throat as her chest tightened, causing her to feel light-headed. She normally would have brushed it off and tried to claim it as dizziness from not having eaten much this morning for breakfast, still feeling slightly nauseous, though she knew that would have been incorrect. Her sickness stemmed from Sarousch.</p><p>Just being forced to be under the same <em>roof</em> as the man caused a coil in her gut to twist and roll until she thought she’d puke, knowing that it was because of her that her new friend upstairs was sure to have his heart torn to pieces and utterly broken by what she was doing.</p><p>Right now, she wasn’t sure if she should be apprehensive or suspicious of his calm demeanor. It didn’t matter if they were in this holy place or not. Probably the latter if she knew her master. Her blue eyes drifted towards the front of the nave and settled numbly on the various marble statutes of God’s angels.</p><p>“I—I’m <em>not</em> going to do this, Sarousch. I want nothing more to do with your <em>thefts</em>, your harebrained <em>schemes</em>. I’m <em>not</em> coming back with you,” she announced bravely, jutting her chin out slightly defiantly as she spat her words through her gritted teeth while she sat rigidly by her master’s side while she waited for this, whatever ‘this’ happened to be for her, to be over so that Sarousch could leave, and she could head back up to the bell tower to Quasi.</p><p>Madellaine bit the inside wall of her cheek as she shifted her legs, crossing one over the other, and stifled a pained cry as her swollen ankle from where she’d fallen last night outside the cathedral when the twins had shoved her, sent a white-hot flare of pain up her leg and all the way up and down her spine just then.</p><p>She felt Sarousch nudge beside her, but he made no mention of her swollen ankle or her bruises. She dared not look.</p><p>The young blonde circus performer did not want to look into her master’s eyes and see the abject look of rage within him. Her heart sank to the pit of her churning stomach when she heard Sarousch let out an amused little snort through his nose as he turned his gaze towards her and rolled his eyes, scoffing.</p><p>“You say this as though you think that you have a <em>choice</em>. Need I remind you, my little éclair, that you do not in this regard, just in case you’ve forgotten. <em>You’re</em> the one who stole from <em>me</em>. I could have killed you that day, little dove in the streets, or cut off your hand, for trying to steal coins from me, but Yaga didn’t allow it. She convinced me to take you in and raise you as my own child. For that, the debt you owe me must be <em>paid</em>. Did you forget, Barreau, that I own your <em>life</em>, your very soul? You belong to <em>me</em>, and you’ll do what I say if you value keeping your prettiness intact.” He was treating her as if she were no more than his <em>slave</em>.</p><p>Madellaine heard her master’s words but had never wanted to accept them as fact. She let out a haggard sigh and blinked back the onset of wretched, salty tears forming at the edges of her lids.</p><p>She resisted the urge to throw back her head and scream. Was there really no way out of this that didn’t end in someone, namely Quasi, getting <em>hurt</em>? Herself she wasn’t too concerned with herself. She’d been used to Sarousch’s abuse for years, sadly enough.</p><p>But a gentle giant like her new friend up in the towers, how sheltered and isolated the man was, how kind he was, to live a life of being gawked at in Sarousch’s troupe would surely break him.</p><p>Being in the middle of what Sarousch was planning to try to lure Quasi out of his tower, especially her part in all of this, made Madellaine feel incredibly uneasy, not to mention more than a little guilty as a result, and to talk about such a topic while sitting in this holy House of God made her feel as though the various statues of God’s angels and the eternal mother, Mary herself, was judging her, and she decided that she did not like it.</p><p>She shivered but not with the cold, and as she glanced back over her shoulder towards the stairwell that led up to the tower, she furrowed her brows in a concentrated frown, swearing she thought she saw his brilliant blue eyes peering out at her from under the cover of darkness, but whatever she thought she saw, it must have been a trick of the light, for when Madellaine blinked, the pair of crystalline sapphires watching her now vanished.</p><p>Madellaine’s frown deepened as she bit down on her bottom lip in a slight pout and turned back around to face Sarousch. She didn’t know why her master had come to see her this morning, but she had to make the man see she couldn’t do it.</p><p>This was a job for any of the other women in his camps, one of the fortune-tellers, the pretty ones like Violet or Tandy, but not her! <em>Not</em> her! For she could not—<em>would</em> not—hurt Quasimodo. The man had saved her life last night. She <em>owed</em> him. This type of job, what he was asking of her, was perfect for someone else, someone that wasn’t <em>her</em>, and Sarousch bloody knew this. Though the young blonde already knew her master wouldn’t go for it even if she were to suggest it as an alternative.</p><p>Madellaine felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach as she blushed upon realizing a job of this caliber was not suited for someone like her.</p><p>She didn’t really understand men all that well. Sarousch had never permitted her to talk to young men her own age and talking to anyone outside of their circus troupe without his expression permission was always strictly forbidden. He’d made that painstakingly clear one morning shortly after her sixteenth birthday years ago when he’d caught her talking to the son of a young farmer in the village they were passing through. When he’d caught the boy flirting with her, he’d taken it upon himself to break her two forefingers and her thumb as punishment before setting the bones right. The lashing she had received afterward had hurt more than her broken fingers.</p><p>She knew she couldn’t hurt Quasi like this. There had to be another way. Of course, such obvious logic was not going get through to the vain pig of a man that called himself her master currently seated next to her at the backmost pew in the old nave.</p><p>Getting Sarousch to see the light of what he was doing was wrong and was going to require a bit of tact and subtlety on her part. Madellaine exhaled a slightly shaking breath through her nose, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and swallowing past the lump in her throat. She really hated herself for the poisonous words she was about to spout out about her new friend upstairs, thinking it to be nothing but vicious slander and lies, but if it would help present her case that she couldn’t do it, then so be it.</p><p>The young woman turned her head away to avoid looking Sarousch in the eye, a muscle in her jaw twitching the angrier she became as Madellaine dwelled on whatever he would do to her tonight when she learned that she was not planning to come back.</p><p>If it meant that Quasi could be safe from the worst of her master’s wrath, then she would let Sarousch beat her within an inch of her life if that’s what it took to protect the gentle giant upstairs, who she couldn’t be sure, but she swore had watched her from the shadows just now. She would have to ask the man later.</p><p>She could live with such a death, if it meant her new friend and the man who had saved her life would be saved from Sarousch, Madellaine told herself, though her strong resolve did nothing to mask the terror she was sure was evident in her pale blue irises.</p><p>Sarousch sanguinely turned his head and lifted his gaze and locked eyes with her. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.</p><p>“I made a <em>mistake</em>,” Madellaine began awkwardly, putting emphasis on her last word, drawing in a frigid breath of cold air that wafted it as the front doors opened as she briefly looked to see a parishioner having entered the cathedral, probably with the intent to give Alms. She shuddered and turned her attention back to her master.</p><p>Her mind begged for relief as visions of that horrible day when she was only three or four years old, wandering the streets of Paris, alone, orphaned, and relying on the kindness of utter strangers for a mere morsel or scrap of bread or rind of an apple. She’d picked Sarousch’s pockets, the man and old Baba Yaga had caught her, and rather than cutting off her hand or turning her over to the authorities to doll out the appropriate punishment for thieving, Yaga had convinced him to take her in.</p><p>The rest was pretty much history, and none of it pleasant.</p><p>“Y—you don’t <em>understand</em>,” Madellaine began hesitantly, biting down on her bottom lip as she nervously, painfully twisted her hands together, not minding that the act caused her bruises that littered the tops of her palms from where the twins had grabbed her to ache and sting.</p><p>She forced herself to pay it no mind, entirely too eager to get her point across to her master.</p><p>“<em>What,</em> little trinket, is it that you think I don’t understand?” Sarousch asked in a droll, dry voice, sounding as though he did not care what his assistant thought one way or the other. He let out a tired sigh and crossed his arms over his chest.</p><p>Madellaine swallowed hard.<em> Here it comes</em>. She hated having to lie to Sarousch.</p><p>“Y—you didn’t <em>see</em> him,” she continued, squeezing her eyes shut as visions of the bell ringer’s pale, tormented face, the slight contusion over his left browbone that marred his otherwise somewhat handsome features, and haunted blue eyes that looked as though they had seen more than a lifetime of hurt, pain, and suffering clouded the front of her mind. “I—I don’t want to be a part of this anymore, Sarousch. Your bell ringer upstairs that you’ve your eye on, he saved my life last night from those <em>twins</em>,” she spat the last word as though it were poison that had settled upon her tongue. She stiffened as she swore a flickering of something unreadable flitted in his eyes.</p><p>“Erik and Jakob will torment you no longer, my little éclair. They have been appropriately <em>punished</em>. I have freed you from their ways,” he continued speaking smoothly in a languid voice, still not looking at her, returning his attention towards the Virgin Mary statue and glancing around at the artwork, feigning interest.</p><p>Madellaine parted her lips open slightly to speak, though the instant the words left Sarousch’s thin, wormy lips, she froze.</p><p>Her words died upon her tongue. The blonde had been about to follow up her statement with something along the lines of “<em>The monstrous appearance of this place’s bell ringer is too much for me to handle. Won’t you please get Violet or Tandy to do it?</em>”</p><p>Though she caught the shift in the man’s countenance and the lowering of his voice an octave as Sarousch spoke of the twins.</p><p>She swallowed, and finally found her voice, though she thought it a miracle she could even manage to string together two syllables.</p><p>“What exactly,” she started, the wheels in her head turning as her mind struggled to put together two and two. “Do you mean by that? What have you <em>done</em>?” Madellaine asked bluntly. She fixed her master with an icy blue piercing stare of her own, refusing to avert her gaze, though Sarousch continued to face away from her, his own attention fixated on the various marble statues scattered throughout the art as decorations meant to worship the Lord their God.</p><p>The disgruntled ringmaster took his time, almost seeming to hesitate before offering up a reply. He must have noticed the shift in Madellaine’s voice as she was becoming more and more suspicious and angry that her master had harmed the twins, perhaps even…</p><p><em>No. he—he wouldn’t do that…would he…?</em> She desperately searched his face for answers. His gaze almost transformed right before her eyes while she looked at him and as a consequence of this, Sarousch’s expression became even more guarded. Perhaps the man knew.</p><p>Sarousch’s mouth pressed into a hard grimace as he finally summoned the strength to look his servant in the eyes and locked gazes with the young blonde. “Erik and Jakob’s behavior last night by following you here and impeding you in your mission was…inexcusable,” explained the circus’s ringmaster, his smooth languid voice almost pedantic in a way, as if he were disappointed by the turn that their volatile conversation had just now taken. “Those boys were completely unaware of your predicament, despite the fact that I have given them multiple opportunities to rectify their previous behavior towards you, they crossed a nonnegotiable land mine last night by laying a finger on you.”</p><p>“What?” Madellaine uttered slowly, hardly believing her ears. “Wh-what are you <em>saying</em>, master? What did you <em>do</em>?!?”</p><p>Sarousch let out a low warning growl as he looked at the young blonde with no small measure of frustration gleaming in his narrowed eyes, now little more than slits, though they reminded the circus performer of a pit viper’s slit-like pupils. He looked as though he were resentful of her hollow reaction, as though he had expected her to be more appreciative.</p><p>Gritting his teeth, he turned his head sharply away from Madellaine, his darkened burning eyes reflecting cold passivity.</p><p>“Where <em>are</em> they?” Madellaine asked in a warbling voice, hoping her voice sounded calm and unaccusatory as her master breathed heavily in and out, not registering her soft, quiet words.</p><p>“<em>That</em>, mademoiselle, is absolutely <em>none</em> of your concern and you would do <em>well</em> to mind your tongue around me, <em>trinket</em>,” Sarousch replied in a cutting, scathing tone as he turned away from her and rested his hands on the backrest of the pew in front of him, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly with each breath.</p><p>“Master, I don’t—” Madellaine started to say, though before she could so much as say another word, Sarousch interrupted her.</p><p>“They are where they <em>should</em> be, belle. In the <em>ground</em>.” His words were unflinching, steadfast, and strong, in their execution.</p><p>A cold dread seeped into the pit of her stomach and worked its way up the confines of her chest until she tasted bitter vomit. “You <em>killed</em> them, didn’t you?” whispered Madellaine, horrified, clamping her hands over her mouth, and swallowing back the bile that was threatening to spew out of her mouth.</p><p>She was able to guess that was what her master had done by his initial reluctance to look at her. She blinked back her tears. Not because she mourned Erik and Jakob so much (may God bless their souls not!) but more so she feared for Quasimodo. If Sarousch could cold-heartedly kill the twins, then what on earth was the man going to do to Notre Dame’s bell ringer if and when the man upstairs didn’t fall in line with his stupid demands?</p><p>“H—how <em>could</em> you?” she squeaked in a terrified, small voice. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back tears as Sarousch’s head whiplashed sharply to meet her gaze.</p><p>“How <em>could</em> I?” he repeated, sounding as though he had misheard the question she’d just posed. His voice shook and trembled like a clap of thunder as he looked at Madellaine with a sideways glance, his dark hair falling across his forehead like a curtain. “Were I in <em>your</em> position, little dove, I’d be more <em>grateful</em> and considerate of my word choice,” he growled. “You would have rather I let them <em>kill</em> you because that is most assuredly what they would have done. They would have come back a second time, and we both know it. You know <em>nothing</em> of the way a man’s mind works, little dove. If I had let them get away with this, they would have had their way with you until there was nothing left, and then I would find myself <em>without</em> my prettiest ornament on the midway, dear.”</p><p>“But…you…<em>killed</em> them…I…I can’t do this, master, wh—what you’re asking of me. I—I’m not strong enough. I <em>won’t</em> do it.”</p><p>Her shaking voice escaped her lips as a mere, hoarse croak as Madellaine felt her eyes mist with the fresh onset of tears, and she let out a tiny, barely audible groan as she reached up to flick away from her tears with a well-practiced flick of her finger. She had thought her tears had been long spent, but she supposed not.</p><p>Her face was beginning to crumble at the thought of what Sarousch would do to Quasi (and to a lesser extent, her!) if she refused, leaving her nose red at the tip, and blushing with stifled, half-choked little sobs. Every inch of her being protested her master’s stupid plan to lure the bell ringer out of the comforts of his home, but there was no way that she could turn back time and spiral back a day and a half or so to change Sarousch’s mind, then.</p><p>Though her words just now had tumbled from her lips before she could stop herself, much less even fathom what was happening, his voice, when Sarousch responded to her claims regarding that she was not strong enough for a job of this nature, was ice-cold, listless, flat, and utterly unforgiving towards her.</p><p>“Then you should have thought of that before you <em>stole</em> from me and talked <em>back</em>, Madellaine, yes?” Sarousch challenged.</p><p>Madellaine inwardly groaned and almost stomped her foot in frustration. He tended to bring this up whenever she didn’t want to fall in line with whatever he was planning, which was almost always. “B—but you were being—” she started to say, though Sarousch immediately raised a hand to silence Madellaine.</p><p>She clamped her lips tightly shut, not wanting to stoke the man’s anger further. If he really <em>had</em> killed the twins in retaliation for daring to touch her, there was no telling what else he’d do.</p><p>“Utterly appropriate, little dove, wouldn’t you say? I took you in out of the pure goodness and selflessness of my own heart,” Sarousch interjected coldly, fixing his servant with a glacier-cold stare devoid of any sort of warmth or affection that rendered the blood in her veins to ice and almost paralyzed her where she sat.</p><p>Madellaine did not know what to say to her master’s claim, so she opted for silence instead. If Sarousch noticed the young blonde circus performer’s rapidly growing discomfort as the pair remained unmoved from their spot on the pew, he didn’t acknowledge it. His voice was much more somber when he spoke.</p><p>“I thought I had made it quite <em>plain</em>, trinket, what will happen to you and the wretch upstairs who, if what Baba tells me is true, has taken quite a liking to you already in just one day...”</p><p>“You’ve been <em>spying</em> on us?” Madellaine demanded accusingly. “<em>How</em>…?” Madellaine’s voice trailed off as she wracked her brain for how Baba Yaga could possibly know of Quasimodo, and then the dawning realization hit her, causing her to reel back against the backrest of the pew as far as she possibly could. “<em>Bram</em>,” she whisper hissed through gritted teeth. <em>Oh, the raven!</em></p><p>The old crone had some sort of spiritual connection to the massive blackbird that allowed her to temporarily possess the bird’s body and spirit and see whatever the large black bird saw.</p><p>Sarousch barely gave a visible incline of his head, though it was more than enough to confirm Madellaine’s suspicions that, even when not physically present alongside her to keep tabs on her, that the ringmaster of their troupe had his ways of spying.</p><p>“I <em>did</em> warn you, Barreau, what will happen to you if you refuse to do this for me,” he growled, glancing sideways of the corner of his peripherals, registering the dawning look of shock and anger on Madellaine’s rapidly paling and pallid complexion.</p><p>Madellaine opened her mouth, spluttering and stammering to think of some kind of hot-headed remark to fire back in his face, though all that came out was a bunch of strangled attempts at speech, and she was aware she was babbling like an idiot.</p><p>Sarousch snorted, rolling his eyes at her, and continued speaking.</p><p>“If you <em>don’t</em> do as I ask, I’ll ensure it isn’t just <em>you</em> that’s going to suffer for your insolence. I’ll cut that boy’s limbs off, one by one, and make you <em>watch</em>, sweetheart, if you don’t,” he snarled, jerking his head back towards the stairwell from which she had just come down.</p><p>Noticing the look of abject horror on her face as it paled and turned an interesting shade of sickly green, he sighed.</p><p>“<em>Really</em>, Barreau, I don’t know why you continue to fight me on this. It’s quite an easy job, darling. Just talk to the boy, smile at him, wile, and beguile him. Bat your eyelashes, give him a <em>kiss</em> if that’s what it takes, but get him <em>down</em> here and to my circus, girl. He’ll be like putty in your hands if what Yaga was telling me is true. Your part in all of this is relatively easy, dear. Just do this for me and no one will get hurt. It’s quite simple, my lovely éclair.”</p><p>Madellaine gnashed her teeth together and felt her temper swell within her heart, that familiar hot fire-seed of anger that she was honestly surprised hadn’t gotten her into more trouble lately.</p><p>“Master, I wish you could <em>hear</em> yourself,” Madellaine murmured, her tone somewhere between betrayal and hurt before she felt a shift within herself and she could feel herself growing more and more irate and angrier the longer she stayed here. “I made a <em>mistake</em>. I was only four years old when I stole from you. How long are you going to hold this over my head?” she begged.</p><p>She could hardly believe the question she had just asked, but she simply wanted this conversation to end she would leave. Give the man whatever he wanted, and she’d be left alone.</p><p>Sarousch let out a low warning growl from deep within the confines of his slender chest.</p><p>“For as long as I want,” he snapped back in a matter-of-fact tone. “I don’t want to discuss in detail what happened that day. You and I were both there, we <em>lived</em> it. I don’t need to justify myself to you, little dove. It is quite clear to me that you think me to be a heartless <em>monster</em>, a merciless brute.”</p><p>Even as Sarousch rose from his spot on the pew and now stood towering beside her, looking down at the girl with narrowed, beady blue eyes, Madellaine could feel herself start to pant as she struggled to control the surge of anger welling within her, her own blue eyes narrowing into a glower at her master with as much hatred and poisonous venom as she could possibly have.</p><p>Sarousch, like a panther eyeing its prey that it had successfully managed to entrap, towered over his assistant, his eyes narrowed with cynicism and the briefest looks of disgust.</p><p>“Oh, little darling,” Sarousch muttered in a dangerously soft voice that caused the young woman to cower and shirk away from him as far as she possibly could, rising on shaking legs to stand, which was admittedly difficult considering her hurt ankle. “You’re <em>mistaken</em>, Barreau, if you think you’ve any sense of freedom, even here. I don’t care if you’ve claimed sanctuary here, it’s <em>not</em> going to save you from me. <em>God</em> won’t save you from me. You described me once as a <em>monster</em>. <em>Fine</em>. If <em>that’s</em> what you think of the man who <em>saved your life</em>, then so bloody be it, girl. Then let me be the monster you think of me to be, little dove, though it truly <em>does</em> break my heart, to have you think of me like this. You’re going to go back up there and convince him to come to the circus. Considering your ruined visage and your ankle, I’ll let you off the hook <em>this</em> time, girl, but I expect to see the two of you at the circus tomorrow night. If you’re <em>not</em>, well…” his hand lowered and rested on a knife in its sheath, his long, slender fingers curling over the hilt. “The <em>monster</em> starts losing fingers.”</p><p>Madellaine felt her jaw drop open in anger and shock as he continued to tower over her and stand in front of her as she backed away, heading towards the stairwell, never once taking her eyes off the man. He leaned down and forward so the tip of his slender, slightly hooked nose practically touched her own nose.</p><p>She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Y—you <em>can’t</em>!” she stammered, her voice coming out as a breathy little squeak.</p><p>“I can and I am,” Sarousch answered calmly. “This <em>isn’t</em> a request, my little eclair,” he snapped. Madellaine shirked away from her master and the unexpected intimacy of the unwanted closeness as much as she possibly could until her back was pressed firmly against the cold stone wall of the cathedral.</p><p>Her master was scolding her as though what he was asking the young blonde circus performer was little more than to fetch him a wineskin or flagon of wine, not helping lure a man out to kidnap him and possibly harm him if the man didn’t cooperate.</p><p>Madellaine visibly winced, casting her gaze to the ground, not wanting to meet the ringmaster’s icy-blue, cold glowering. Something about the way Sarousch was staring at her made her feel open, exposed, and vulnerable. She needed to stand up for herself, to stand her ground and refuse to give in to his demands.</p><p>
  <em>Be strong. Refuse. Spit in his face. Say no, you can do it!</em>
</p><p>But she couldn't do it, and her master knew that about her, that she wasn't strong enough to. He always got what he wanted from her, in the end. Madellaine started to look up, to turn on the heel of her boot to head back upstairs to tell Quasi to come down and take care of him, only to feel the sharp sting of his strong, calloused hand pelting across her cheek.</p><p>She heard a gasp of pain escape her lips before Madellaine could tamp it down, and for a moment, she rested against the wall, with her hand pressed against the doorknob, stunned, as the sound was as loud. And then, with a trembling hand, she tentatively touched her burning cheek. <em>Did he really just…slap me</em>? Madellaine thought, seething.</p><p>"You <em>will</em> do this for me." It wasn't a question, and Sarousch <em>wasn't</em> asking.</p><p>Mutely, Madellaine nodded, blinking back briny tears as she swallowed down a growing lump in her throat. Sarousch’s resounding smirk at her giving in made the young blonde sick with dread.</p><p>"<em>Good</em>." He released his firm, ironclad grip on her arm, slowly, gently, as a serene calmness overtook his features as he stepped away from the blonde, preparing to leave. "I'm very <em>grateful</em> you've come to see things my way, <em>trinket</em>," he proclaimed in what Madellaine surmised was supposed to be a cheerful tone, though, to her, it sounded sadistic.</p><p>Before she could so much as even think of opening her mouth to reply, Sarousch turned on the heels of his boots and left without so much as sparing his prettiest servant a second glance over his shoulder, once more, leaving the girl alone in the nave.</p><p>Madellaine felt the onset of fresh tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, welling and stinging. She gave her head a curt shake to clear it, wiping at her tears frantically with the back of the sleeve of her dress, not wanting anyone to see her cry. Swallowing down the bile that had crept its way from the pit of her churning stomach and up into her throat and settling on her tongue, Madellaine knew at this moment, she hated herself, and the life she'd foolishly stumbled into.</p><p>The man was a bloody beast, a wretch, a plague on society. He was out of his mind <em>insane</em>. Madellaine was beginning to wonder just what she'd gotten herself into. She had been about to tell Sarousch that he was going to have to get another girl to do his dirty work for him, because her new friend upstairs was a tortured poor soul, seeming to have a gentle soul, when he wasn't so painfully shy or awkward, that was, and she couldn't—<em>would</em> not—dare to hurt the man who'd saved her life tonight, including breaking his heart.</p><p>Years had passed since she had unwillingly entered into a life debt of servitude to him, and she had very much regretted it ever since. It had been a horrible lapse of judgment. And now? Now, she was trapped in a hellish life with no way out other than to obey him.</p><p>Sarousch was the very Devil. And he owned her.</p><p>This thought seeped into her mind like a plague as she stood numb, rooted to her spot, a hand still pressed against her now-reddened cheek as she stared at the spot where Sarousch had stood only moments ago before turning back on the heels of her boots and disappearing up the dark stairwell towards the north bell tower loft, hoping and praying with all of her might that Quasi wouldn't notice the marking on her cheek and ask questions...</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>19</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>QUASI </strong>fought against the bile rising in his throat as he stared at the spot, feeling apprehensive and awkward at having followed his friend down the stairwell. He couldn’t be sure, but he was sure that at one point during her conversation with an older man who he could only assume to be her master, that she had peeked back over her shoulder and had looked at him, had spotted him spying.</p>
<p>It was at that moment that he’d clung to the shadows out of fear and had chickened out and couldn’t bring himself to step from the shadows to protect her and had instead darted back up here to his sanctuary. <em>Why? Because…because I was afraid</em>, he answered bitterly. The young bell ringer could not explain it, but there was something of the way the man spoke, his overall calm demeanor that sent a chill down his twisted vertebrae and caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand upright just then.</p>
<p>He swallowed down hard past the lump in his throat, wincing visibly as he heard the footfalls of Madellaine’s soft footfalls as she ascended the ladder that led to the upper mezzanine of his living loft, looking pink in the cheeks, and flustered, clutching at a stitch in her side, looking out of breath.</p>
<p>Quasi furrowed his brows, already noticing the beginnings of what looked like a vicious-looking red welt underneath her eye.</p>
<p>Almost immediately, he felt his concern for the young blonde escalate to an entirely new level and he darted forward to help Madellaine off the last rung of the ladder, not even thinking of it to grab her hand and guide her towards the nearest chair he could find so that the girl could sit and catch her breath a moment, which in this case, happened to be the stool near his carving table.</p>
<p>“H—here, you—you should sit down. <em>Rest</em>,” he murmured, not liking how pale the blonde circus performer looked. It occurred to him that perhaps a cool drink of water would help her, and he bounded forward on his heels to retrieve a small chalice and a wineskin of ice water that Sister Alice had brought up for him last night in the efforts to help quell her fever.</p>
<p>Quasi carefully approached Madellaine with the chalice of water, not wanting to startle her any further than she already looked. She reached out with shaking hands and numbly took the cup from the bell ringer, who stood back a few paces, not wanting to invade her personal space, and painfully twisted his hands together, not sure what she needed other than a drink of water.</p>
<p>His mind was wracked and burning with at least a dozen questions on the tip of his tongue, just begging to be asked, but he did not know how to give his queries a voice. Who was that man downstairs with her? Her master? What did he want with her?</p>
<p>Madellaine drank heavily from the chalice, studying the bell ringer’s facial expressions over the rim of her cup. The water was cold and soothed her flaming throat that was still sore from the last remnants of her fever. It was the first drink of clean water she had enjoyed in…in…she wracked her brain trying to recollect.</p>
<p>She couldn’t remember. When Madellaine finished her drink, she gingerly set her cup down on the edge of the table and shot Quasi a grateful smile of thanks with her eyes. “Thank you, my friend,” she murmured, raising her hand to rub gingerly at the back of her neck, her gaze drifting towards her lap, where she’d quite forgotten she’d still been holding onto the burnt figurine of Judge Claude Frollo that she’d swiped. She sensed Quasi stiffen.</p>
<p>Searching around the room for something—anything—with which she could use to start a conversation, her gaze drifted downward and settled on her lap. With careful movements, her slender fingers wound around the burnt figurine in her lap as she lifted it to just above her eye level to examine it a little bit closer.</p>
<p>Quasi felt his breaths catch in his throat as the figurine of Frollo caught his gaze and he quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to look upon it any further than he already had. There was a small part of him that wondered why he could not manage to bring himself to simply destroy Master Frollo’s carving once and for fall, given all the unimaginable suffering and torment he had put not only him through, but the entire city of Paris, too.</p>
<p>“I—I’m sorry that I—I stole it,” came Madellaine’s soft, quiet voice as her voice wafted through his tower loft like a gentle spring breeze. “I—I was merely curious. He—h—his figure was the only one that was…well, <em>burnt</em>,” she murmured softly.</p>
<p>She paused for a moment and gently set the burnt figurine of Frollo down.</p>
<p>“You—you <em>made</em> all of these things yourself?” she asked, turning her gaze to look towards his model diorama of Paris, marveling at the intricate, and in her mind, truly exquisiteness of each piece and the insane attention to detail that Quasi had painstakingly gone out of his way to crafting with such a delicate tenderness. “It’s beautiful…have you ever considered selling your work in the marketplace, my friend? I imagine people would pay for it.”</p>
<p>Quasi felt his face flush as embarrassment, coupled with just a little bit of admiration and pride, wormed its way through his cheeks, causing them to flush rosy pink and high with color.</p>
<p>“I—n—no, I—I haven’t,” he stammered nervously, though if Madellaine could sense Quasimodo’s growing trepidation, she wasn’t aware of it. He trailed off and fell silent, worried for her.</p>
<p>The girl sighed and carded her fingers through her thick tuft of short blonde hair, raking her slender digits through her shaggy, layered blonde strands to smooth down the flyaways. It took her a moment before she was able to tear her gaze away from the charred and almost unrecognizable figurine of the Judge, and when Madellaine finally met his gaze, it looked as though she had something really important to get off her chest.</p>
<p>She frowned and quickly reverted her gaze, staring down at her lap as she awkwardly rose from the stool and fidgeted with her fingers, biting down on her bottom lip in a slight pout before she evidently found her words and began to speak to Quasimodo.</p>
<p>“Everyone was <em>scared</em> of Claude, weren’t they?” she started, still actively not looking at Notre Dame’s bell ringer as they spoke. “Is it <em>true</em>?” she questioned, finally daring to chance a peek at Quasi’s stupefied expression out of the corner of her gaze as she turned her attention once more towards the carvings on Quasi’s carving table, picking up the figurines of Frollo and Esmeralda. The look of confusion and shock must have been evident on his face, for she flushed and quickly explained further. “The—the rumors,” she elaborated. “Did you really…save Esmeralda from burning at the stake? Did you break out of your chains and destroy four massive marble pillars of stone, Quasi?”</p>
<p>A fiery heat scorched at his cheeks as now it was his turn to blush and look away. In truth, the events of the last year alone had been terrifying as a whole, and Quasi wasn’t sure he was ready to revisit the horrid memories as they flashed in front of his mind upon the young blonde woman just mentioning them like this.</p>
<p>But Madellaine was quite kind, and she didn’t know the truth. He could not fault her for being curious.</p>
<p>He parted his lips open slightly to speak, though before he could so much as utter the first syllable, she began to walk away from him, taking in the surroundings of his tower loft.</p>
<p>She didn’t speak again until she’d used the wall to serve as a back brace as she slid once more to the ground, and pulled her knees up close to her chest, still clutching onto the figurine of Frollo. Quasi wondered what her emotional attachment to the wooden figurine was, why Madellaine seemed to hold such a vested interest.</p>
<p>She spoke as though she <em>knew</em> him. “Did you hate him?” she questioned, almost bluntly, causing Quasi to narrow his eyes in both alarm and suspicion.</p>
<p>He wouldn’t dare ever hit a woman, but he could not help but wonder where this young woman’s insurmountable bravery was coming. He wouldn’t expect any other Parisian to dare speak ill of Master Frollo to his face. Especially not a woman his age.</p>
<p>As cruel and as horrible as Frollo had been to Quasimodo growing up, the man had been the closest thing to a father figure in his life, and dead though he was, he did not like others speaking ill of the man, and there was the part of himself that hated himself for it. Even in death, Frollo still had an ironclad hold on his mind.</p>
<p>“No, b—but…” Quasi paused as he took a moment to settle himself next to Madellaine, opting to sit cross-legged as he looked out at the City of Lovers bustling with its usual activity, unable to bring himself to look at her just yet. He felt so unsure of himself, so uncertain. A memory of Frollo admonishing him for asking foolish and unnecessary questions darted through the forefront of his mind. But Frollo was gone now, and Quasi couldn’t help this.</p>
<p>It seemed to take him a moment to regain control of his voice.</p>
<p>“What <em>about</em> him? Wh—where are you <em>going</em> with this?” he asked dryly, and he cringed, hoping his new friend hadn’t seen it.</p>
<p>Madellaine eyed Quasimodo indignantly. “Well…” she paused, seeming to need a moment to collect her thoughts. “I know he’s your…was your father, Quasimodo, I…” she stammered, a fiery heat speckling along her cheeks as she swallowed down past a lump in her throat.</p>
<p>Oh, God, but she was overstepping all sorts of mental and invisible boundaries of their friendship by bringing this up only a day into their new friendship, but her curiosity was insatiable.</p>
<p>“A—and I’m sure you’re <em>sad</em> that he’s dead,” she whispered in a small and meek voice, wincing.</p>
<p>Oh, but could this get any more <em>awkward</em> for her? She sincerely hoped not. She chewed at the wall of her mouth for a second before clamping her teeth down on her tongue, hard enough for it to start bleeding, aware she was sounding like a babbling idiot, but it was already too late to take back her words.</p>
<p>She felt Quasi beside her give a start at her words, and the look of incredulous disbelief brimming in the young man’s glistening cerulean orbs was almost too much for her to bear, but nevertheless, it was past the point of no return, so she pressed on.</p>
<p>“But do you…do you…” Madellaine forced herself to breathe in and out slowly as her lungs begged her for fresh air and then looked up so that her blue eyes met his, wide and brimming with awe and wonder as he searched her face. “I mean…don’t you feel <em>relieved</em> that he’s not around anymore? Think of all the innocent people he killed and was mean to you?”</p>
<p>For a moment, Quasimodo felt utterly gobsmacked. He was at a loss for words as he searched his brain for something to say to her and found that he didn’t know what to say to Madellaine now. What was <em>wrong</em> with this girl? Why would she ask him that? It was bad enough that the entire city of Paris reviled his old master and father for what he was, but…what good did she think it would do for their new friendship by discussing the Judge <em>now</em>?</p>
<p>Master was dead, and he wasn’t coming back, and may God bless his soul not. But despite all of this, Master Frollo was still, like or not, his father. The man had raised him from infancy, cared for him, fed him, clothed him, and taught him how to read.</p>
<p>“No,” he frowned, his brows knitting together as he summoned enough courage to meet the blonde’s gaze with his own. She was looking uncomfortable as it was to have brought up such an unpleasant topic, but Quasi was resigned to the fact that he felt sure Madellaine would have asked him about it eventually.</p>
<p>Better to get it out in the open, he supposed, as he sighed.</p>
<p>“M—Master Frollo raised me, Madellaine. He’s the only family that I—that I ever had,” he explained, desperately searching her eyes and imploring the young woman to understand. “He raised me. Maybe h—he didn’t always do the best job of it that he <em>could</em> have, but….” He stopped himself right there.</p>
<p>He did not want to talk about his psychological problems, especially not to Madellaine. She did not need to be burdened with his problems, especially not when she had many of her own.</p>
<p>“There’s no need for you to <em>defend</em> him, Quasi. What he did to you, the way he treated you, if the rumors I heard in the taverns were true, it wasn’t <em>right</em>, Quasimodo.” She bristled, her chest puffing out slightly, folding her arms across her chest as she felt tired all of a sudden. The girl wasn’t sure if it were because she’d had very little sleep last night while her body worked to fight off the fever or if it were because of her encounter downstairs with Master Sarousch that was still reeling and fresh in her mind.</p>
<p>“He was…a <em>difficult</em> man to deal with, but he was the only one who dared to take me in when no one else would. My master saved my life. Please don’t speak of him in this way,” Quasi snapped, feeling the beginning of annoyance seep into his chest.</p>
<p>He did not want to argue with his new friend, but neither could he idly stand by and allow this slander of him to continue.</p>
<p>“Why did you ask me?” Quasi furrowed his brow and looked over at the young blonde, who flushed and looked away.</p>
<p>“I just…” she paused, a pained, fleeting expression flitting across her pretty features as she swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Well, I—I just thought that…maybe you’d <em>understand</em>…”</p>
<p>She awkwardly rose to her feet and strode over towards the balcony’s balustrade and leaned her elbows against it, resting her cheeks in her hands as she looked out at the city. “I wish that my master would just disappear. Were he <em>dead</em>, that’d be better.”</p>
<p>Quasi blinked owlishly at Madellaine as she turned her gaze slightly to meet his eyes and bluntly stared right back at him. Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears and her lip, set in a little pout, was trembling slightly. Quasi furrowed his brows in a frown as a fresh wave of anger coursed through his veins. She’d spoken of her master, probably the same man who she was downstairs in the nave with conversing in low tones a moment ago, with such hatred and bitterness in her voice, he understood.</p>
<p>He felt he could understand why the young woman would feel this way towards a man who seemed to be causing her harm. He couldn’t say for sure how the man downstairs was treating his new friend, but he’d been able to tell, what little he could tell of the tall, older man’s voice was that he <em>wasn’t</em> kind.</p>
<p>Quasi felt his gaze drift towards the reddening welt underneath Madellaine’s right eye and felt his blood boil. He felt confident without voicing his suspicions the man downstairs had done this to her…it made him wonder what else he’d done.</p>
<p>Things that were even <em>worse</em> than this, things he would do to her behind closed doors. He swallowed. He would rather <em>not</em> think about it.</p>
<p>He did not answer her, but instead, he turned his head away, allowing that one lock of coarse fiery red hair to fall in front of his one good eye. Madellaine quickly realized that whenever he did this, that one little bit of hair acted as a sort of shield, a barrier between himself and whatever it was that he did not wish to see.</p>
<p>After a long pause, Madellaine decided to break the silence by asking the bell ringer a question. She had known the man all but a day now, and though their new friendship was still quite new, she could not help but feel like she had known him all of her life.</p>
<p>The feeling was new, foreign to her, and she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Madellaine coughed once to clear her throat, she wasn't sure why her passageways felt closed off and her throat felt very dry and parched. Her gaze drifted towards the bell ringer's carvings. Admiring their beauty, she reached out a gentle hand to take one of the figurines, turning over the carving of the blacksmith in her palm, examining every detail, feeling its weight.</p>
<p>"You're really good at carving, you have a <em>gift</em>, Quasi," she complimented, smiling as she noticed the light blush speckle along the man's cheeks. "If I could do this, I wouldn’t be a part of a circus and hating it," she sighed wistfully, the blue light in her eyes dimming a little and her kind smile faltering as her mind drifted to that dark place in the back of her mind as she thought of the horrible lapse of judgment she’d had as a little girl. “I'd love to learn sometime from you. Perhaps you can show me one day? How many of these have you made?" she complimented warmly, holding up the figure of Esmeralda.</p>
<p>Madellaine noticed that just for a moment, sadness dulled the light in Quasimodo's eyes to a dim ember as he looked at the figure she held clutched in her palm.</p>
<p><em>Almost a longing glance</em>, her voice offered.<em> Like he loves her</em>. For just a moment, she felt her jealousy prick her heart, but she irritably brushed the feeling aside. <em>To be jealous of her is ridiculous</em>, she told herself. <em>I saw the ring on her finger the other night at camp. She—she’s married. He wouldn’t do that to her!</em></p>
<p>"I've lost count," he said, chuckling quietly. "I have a lot of free time up here, so that's how I stay occupied. That and reading books, mostly. Teaching myself," he spoke up quietly, a light blush speckling across his cheeks. "Would you—would you like to see what I had been looking at?" he asked, as though daring to be excited now. Madellaine heard again the colorful orchestra of his voice and paired with his glowing smile that almost made her heart stop, there was no way to refuse his offer.</p>
<p>"I'd love that," she whispered. His smile was a handsome one, and there was something so bright and pure that came from it that made it all the more special.</p>
<p>Madellaine stifled a small smile as the bell ringer, in a moment of excitement and temporarily forgetting himself as he reached for her hand, gently guiding her up the steps and to an opening between two parapets of stone out onto the balcony.</p>
<p>When they arrived on the balcony, what she saw took her breath away, and it wasn't because of the cool air. The early morning sunrise was gorgeous. As the sun crept higher into the horizon, fleeting colors of morning began to fade appear. The sky was on fire, lit up with the last remnants of pink, purple, and orange. It was truly breathtaking. <em>Amazing</em>.</p>
<p>"Wow," she breathed, surprised she could even find her voice. Madellaine leaned against the railing, her arms resting on the railing for support as she spotted a nearby parapet and thought that a better opportunity to get a better look. She began to climb despite the man's vehement protests that she waited for him and didn't stop until she reached the top. She did her best not to look down. Flustered, she looked over as Quasi clambered over the top, at last, looking winded and if she wasn't mistaken, a little dazed.</p>
<p>"You—you should have waited for me," he managed.</p>
<p>Madellaine threw him a teasing smile. "Why? Are you scared?"</p>
<p>He shot her a reproachful look and smiled nervously. "I've been climbing all my life. I—I know you said you're used to climbing as a circus performer, but…" he hesitated, biting his lip, uncertain if he could speak what was on his mind, or if he even should. "I don't want to see you get hurt," he said, at last, sounding pained. He looked away momentarily, afraid of what she would think. "Next time, <em>wait</em> for me. If you should slip and fall, I would like to be able to catch you, my friend." To his surprise, when he dared to face her again, she was smiling. He returned the gesture, and Madellaine stared, unable to help it. His smile was one of happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens.</p>
<p>She could see how it came from deep inside to light up his eyes and spread into every part of him. A person smiles with more than just their mouth, and she heard it in his voice, in his choice of words, and the way he let his shoulders relax whenever he spoke to her. It was beautiful.</p>
<p>She blushed and looked away, choosing to return her attention to the magnificent sunrise ahead of them. Quasi said nothing, taking a moment to drink in the young woman's beauty and commit her to his memory forever. He could tell by the way that she walked that Madellaine was insecure. Her shoulders would hunch over a little as if she were hiding the treasure inside of her. Her footsteps were light and timid when she approached him, watching him through skittish wide eyes.</p>
<p>He could practically see it in her eyes, in the gateway to her soul.</p>
<p><em>What does she think of me?</em> His voice conjured up. Irritated, he tried to brush away these thoughts he was having, but it was too late. They'd already begun and there was no stopping it at this point. D<em>oes she like me; does she think I'm repulsive? What if—what if she can't take it and she runs away? The only other woman to not run away when they first saw me was Esmeralda, and she was always Phoebus's, right from the very start. Will I say the right thing? </em></p>
<p>He knew these thoughts all too well.  Quasi noticed Madellaine's brow had furrowed slightly as she shot him a quizzical look, choosing not to comment on his behavior. He smiled at her, hoping to lighten the burden she carried on herself.</p>
<p>Then something amazing happened, like the sun emerging from behind the clouds after a thunderstorm. Her eyes lightened, her expression softened, and she smiled back at him, revealing a brilliant white smile with perfectly aligned teeth. The way her lips lifted upwards, the one dimple on her cheek crinkles. Her smile was a bright ray of sunshine in summer. <em>She's beautiful</em>, he thought.</p>
<p>"I've never seen a sunrise like this in my life!" she exclaimed breathlessly, in awe as she watched the sun creep over the horizon, taking its time at its petty pace. "Is it always like this every morning? It's beautiful out here! You're lucky! I've never seen a sunrise like this before!"</p>
<p>Quasi smiled at her curiosity, his attention focused solely on her instead of the sunrise. This young woman was pure and innocent. She was a lot like him, he could tell. Shy, quiet.</p>
<p>She continued, awestruck at the beautiful view. "I bet the king himself doesn't have a view like this! All this room to yourself! You're lucky! It's beautiful!" she exclaimed happily.</p>
<p>"Yes, you are," he muttered under his breath, blushing as the young blonde turned and her eyes widened at the compliment. He cursed under his breath and tried to correct his mistake. "I—I mean, yes, yes, it is. Not that you're <em>not</em> beautiful too, I—I mean…you are beautiful! I just…oh, <em>God</em>, I'm so <em>sorry</em>. I only meant…they're always like this most days, and—and the sunsets are beautiful too…"</p>
<p>To his shock, she began laughing, erupting into a giggling fit.</p>
<p>Her fit interrupted his horrified babbling, and he froze for a moment as he realized she was laughing with him rather than at him. This realization turned his face to sunshine, a bright golden smile, now laughing with her as the two turned back to the horizon from their perches on the parapet and gazed contentedly out. Though long minutes passed, it only felt like mere moments up here at the top of the world. Quasi coughed once to clear his throat and tried to think of something to say.</p>
<p>"So, do you like working for Sarousch?"</p>
<p>The blonde gave a curt nod, her blue eyes piercing his soul as she looked into his and met his gaze. "It puts food on the table."</p>
<p>Distracted, she hadn't realized she had leaned so far off the parapet until it was too late. She let out a squeak of terror as she felt herself beginning to lean off the parapet.</p>
<p> To her surprise, she felt Quasi gingerly wrap his hands around her waist and pull her away from the edge, catching her before she could plummet to her death. His hands, which were surprisingly gentle given the harsh nature of his work, lingered on her waist for a moment, ready to catch her if she felt faint.</p>
<p>"Thank you," she croaked hoarsely. "I—it is my dream to one day walk a tightrope, b-but I-I'm afraid of heights, so I don't think that dream will come true. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it." she joked, feeling embarrassed that she'd almost fallen to her death.</p>
<p>"Oh, I don't believe that," he said quietly. His tone was serious as his eyes met hers. "I think that you can do anything you want that you set your mind to. You're being too hard on yourself."</p>
<p>Madellaine felt a pink blush grace her cheeks embarrassedly as she watched him. "I've been hearing…stories, Quasi, I...I was hoping you'd tell me the truth at some point," she said, at last, sounding hesitant, wondering if it was her place to bring it up. She bit her lip. "About you," she continued, feeling her voice go soft and shy. "Are the stories true? Did you really risk your freedom to save an entire race of people? Did you save a woman from burning at the stake? What happened to you if I may ask?"</p>
<p>Quasi froze, not having anticipated the question. "Y—yes, I did," he stammered, still in shock. It had been so long since he talked about it. Phoebus and Esmeralda knew better than to bring up Frollo in front of him. "I don't talk about it."</p>
<p>She paused, though a murmur, faint though it was, caused her ears to perk up at the noise, though she dared not look back over her shoulder to confirm if it was true. If Madellaine strained to hear, she could have sworn she heard the three stone gargoyles talking amongst themselves from within the shadows.</p>
<p>"What did she say?" Hugo's voice hissed, trying his hardest to be quiet.</p>
<p>Madellaine’s eyes widened in shock, though she quickly recovered and molded her features into an expression of neutrality, not wanting to startle Quasi.</p>
<p>"She <em>said</em>," here Laverne sounded annoyed. "She heard stories about Frollo."</p>
<p>"Oh." Hugo's voice sounded disappointed. "Well, <em>that's</em> not very <em>exciting</em>."</p>
<p>"<em>Hugo</em>!" whisper-shouted both Laverne and Victor, becoming irate.</p>
<p>"What?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I'm just sayin', they should talk about something else. Or, you know if he's waiting for the opportune moment to kiss her, now is it while he's got her up here all alone."</p>
<p>"<strong>HUGO</strong>!" bellowed both Laverne and Hugo, and at that little outburst, a flock of pigeons became startled and immediately took flight, squawking their displeasure.</p>
<p>Madellaine's head swiveled upward as she glanced back over her shoulder. Now she had them.</p>
<p>"I <em>heard</em> that!” she yelled, balling her hands into fists as her face drained of all her colors. But, to her disdain, the stone figures had gone utterly still and lifeless. Feeling the heat speckle along her cheeks, Madellaine swallowed back the lump nervously, reaching up a hand to tuck a wisp of blonde hair back behind her ear. "I…um…" she stammered, feeling suddenly quite flustered as she turned back to Quasi, who was watching her, seemingly interested, though looking concerned. "F—forgive me for that," she managed to gasp out. "I—I don't know <em>what</em> I was thinking. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh. The fire. The siege. R—right."</p>
<p>She cringed at the awkwardness of it all, though if Quasi was bothered by it, he did not show it, for which she was grateful. "Why did the soldiers put you in chains?" she asked, feeling her voice go hard as she fought back her temper swelling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of harm coming to the sweet, innocent man before her.</p>
<p>"I was helping Esmeralda's people, and Judge Frollo, my father, he—he didn't trust me anymore. I don't know if he still does or not," he explained, surprised at the admission of the truth and how easy it was to talk to Madellaine about what had happened.</p>
<p><em>This is a first</em>.</p>
<p>"It was nothing, really. It was the only right thing to do. If I didn't do it, someone else would have…I hope. And I couldn't just let my friends die," Quasi said, growing nervous and not used to this sort of praise he was getting from her. "I had to save them. What kind of friend would I have been otherwise, to let them die a painful death?"</p>
<p>Madellaine smiled shyly and felt her cheeks redden.</p>
<p>"I think you don't give yourself enough credit, that's what <em>I</em> think," she said, at last, momentarily forgetting her place. "Not many would have had the courage to do what you did. But you, you risked your own freedom and your very life to save the people you cared about the most. You're entirely too modest, Quasi. Be kinder to yourself."</p>
<p>Quasi smiled warmly at the blonde, feeling the beginnings of something stirring in his heart that sent incredible warmth all throughout his body.</p>
<p>Madellaine gave him a forced smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her blue eyes were pained as she lost herself in his own blue eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked, her brow furrowed.</p>
<p>"I—I'm fine," he said a little too quickly. He wondered how long he'd been staring at her, mesmerized by her beauty, and if he'd made her uncomfortable yet. He cursed himself for getting attached so easily.</p>
<p>The demon in his head was taunting him. <em>She probably doesn't even like you. She's probably just doing this for her own atonement, to make her feel good about herself again. She doesn't like you at all. She probably hates you</em>.</p>
<p>Madellaine quirked her brow at him in suspicion, her eyes narrowed, not buying it. She tried again. "Are—are you <em>sure</em> you're okay?" she asked again. "Because you don't really—"</p>
<p>"I'm fine," he managed, letting out a nervous laugh.</p>
<p>"Because you don't look it," she finished, frowning slightly. It was a moment before Madellaine spoke up again. She seemed to struggle with the urge to say something, but finally, she held up the wooden carving of Judge Frollo that made the bell ringer draw in a sharp breath that pained his lungs.</p>
<p>"How did you…?" <em>How did you take it without me seeing it?</em></p>
<p>"I can't imagine what it must have been like, growing up with such a cruel man for a father figure," she said, her tone saddened, but there was something elusive and mysterious in her voice that suggested to the bell ringer that she knew all too well what it was like, and for a brief moment, he began to feel himself grow angered at the thought of someone hurting her. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with that man," she apologized, a note of hatred and pain in her tone. "He is a <em>monster</em>, not just to you, but to everyone here in Paris." Her cheeks grew high and flushed with color as she turned over the wooden figurine in her palm, examining it and scrutinizing even the minutest of details.</p>
<p>Quasi stared at her, confused. "You knew my father?"</p>
<p>"No," she admitted, shaking her head. "But I heard the stories," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. She turned away, but not before he saw a single tear cascade down her cheeks.</p>
<p>"Frollo is the only family I have. <em>Was</em>," he stammered, moving to correct himself.</p>
<p>She smiled sadly, glancing down at the figure of the judge in her palm. She clutched it tightly enough that the wood cracked. and splintered her palm, pricking her skin and causing it to bleed. "<em>Ouch</em>! Damn!" she cried, dropping the figure in alarm, and letting out a hiss of pain, wincing at the fresh cut that welled. "How could I have been so <em>stupid</em>? This <em>hurts</em>!” she shrieked.</p>
<p>"Don't talk about yourself like that!" he snapped. "You're not stupid, I do this to myself all the time. Here, let me see it," he said suddenly, holding out his hand. "May I?" he asked kindly. She nodded and she gently placed her hand in his palm. When he delicately traced the lines of her palm with a gentle finger, Madellaine shivered, a cold chill traveling down her spine, though he didn't notice. His touch felt nice. He was gentle.</p>
<p>"It hurts," she confessed, a sheepish grin on her face.</p>
<p>"It doesn't look bad," he said, at last, reluctantly relinquishing his grip on her palm at last. "Have Sister Alice mend it for you later, she'll fix it for you," he said, although a small feeling of sadness pricked his heart at the thought of her leaving.</p>
<p>She had only been with him a short while now, just under a full day, and already, she was leaving quite the impression on him. She was very kind and quite pretty.</p>
<p><em>Don't start falling for her</em>, Frollo's voice inside his head warned. <em>She's a witch, a temptress. You don't need this heathen in your life</em>.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry I stole it, I found it earlier," Madellaine apologized. "I thought I recognized him, and sure enough, it's Frollo all right," she growled through clenched teeth, kneeling down to pick up the figurine in her hand once more. A dark look clouded her beautiful features as her face contorted into a scowl as she talked to the Frollo figure in her hand. Quasi couldn't be sure, but he got the impression she was doing some quick thinking, and he was right as she spoke. "Goodbye, you <em>monster</em>. I hope that wherever you are, your mind is plagued with regret for the lives that have suffered under your rule here in Paris. All the genocide you caused, the lives you ruined, I hope you <em>rot</em> in a lake of hellfire," she hissed.</p>
<p>Before she was aware of what she was doing she drew back her arm and flung the figure over the edge of the rose window balcony as far as she could throw it. Madellaine watched in satisfaction as the figure plummeted to the stones below.</p>
<p>"What are you…?" Quasi was stunned, at a loss for words. He wasn't sure if he wanted to burst out laughing or break out in tears. "What <em>was</em> that?" he asked at last.</p>
<p>Madellaine turned to face the bell ringer, a defiant look in her eyes, her blue eyes on fire as she jutted her chin out definitely as she met his quizzical gaze.</p>
<p>"I <em>am</em> sorry for that, Quasi, what I just did, but I cannot fathom why you would want a constant reminder in your life of a man who beat you," she added harshly, her eyes drifting downwards to his hands, where, if she weren’t mistaken and about these things she usually wasn't, having suffered her own beatings at Sarousch's hand, she could see the lash markings, scars from his beatings in times now long behind. Without waiting to be asked, she gingerly grabbed his hand and pulled up his tunic sleeve. "Did <em>he</em> do this to you?" she asked accusingly as she traced one of the scars on his hands with a delicate finger that sent a pleasant tremor down his spine, enjoying the feeling of her contact against his palm.</p>
<p>"Yes," he said quietly, feeling ashamed.</p>
<p>"I'm so sorry. He—he should not have," she apologized, looking pained.</p>
<p>"Don't be," he said, surprising himself. He should be angry, that she'd gone through his carvings without his knowledge, and had thrown one off the ledge, but secretly, he was glad she'd done it. He hoped it was the first step he would need to fully rid his mind of memories of Frollo.</p>
<p>"But I—" she started to say, but he didn't let her finish.</p>
<p>"You were just curious. I don't blame you for wanting to know more," he sighed, looking out at the city of Paris. Quasi glanced over to discover that she was looking at him with something akin to grief, perhaps pity, in those eyes of hers.</p>
<p>"What did he do to you?" she whispered angrily.</p>
<p>"I…I can't," he said, at last, his voice trembling.</p>
<p>It was a moment before Madellaine spoke again. "You're very kind, Quasimodo. You're such a gentle soul. Why <em>anyone</em> would hurt you is beyond my ability to understand."</p>
<p>Quasi startled at the compliment and felt his face drain of color. "Oh, I don't know about that," he laughed bitterly, popping a grape into his mouth. "If you're smart, and you <em>are</em>, Madellaine. You'd be wise to keep your distance from a monster like me. You'll stay <em>away</em> from me," he said, doing his best to ignore how hurt he sounded.</p>
<p>Madellaine furrowed her brows in a frown as she looked at him, wondering if she'd said something to offend and said as much. "Have I said something to upset you?"</p>
<p>Quasi sighed, squaring his shoulders as he folded his arms across his chest. "No," he answered moodily. "I just…people don't have the best luck being around me. It's better for you not to get too close to me. The only thing I'm good for is bringing ruin and destruction to people's lives."</p>
<p>Madellaine's heart broke at seeing so much pain and heartbreak in the bell ringer's brilliant blue eyes.</p>
<p><em>How one man can live up here for over twenty years by himself and not die of loneliness, I can't comprehend it</em>, she mused, marveling at how brilliant the man's eyes were, how his eyes conveyed a multitude of emotions in just a single look. Finally, she found her voice again. "Don't you think that's for <em>me</em> to decide? I'd like to see you again, Quasi."</p>
<p>He stared, looking stunned. "What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"I fail to see how someone like you can bring ruin to people's lives. Forgive me if I'm being so forward, and it might not be my place to say it, but here it goes. I just cannot for the life of me see it. You're a kind and gentle man. I'd like to see you again, if you will have me, Quasimodo. May I continue to visit you, if you would allow it?"</p>
<p>He turned his head sharply and regarded her for a moment. "No. I can't impose that upon you. No. I'm sorry."</p>
<p>"You would truly try to keep me from seeing you again?" she demanded, feeling herself beginning to grow inexplicably angry as a hot boiling rage developed deep into the pit of her stomach and snaked its way up into her throat. Madellaine took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm.</p>
<p><em>And this day had been off to a good start, too</em>, she thought, distraught as she looked into the bell ringer's eyes.</p>
<p>Quasi stared at her, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. "Did you…did you <em>want</em> to see me again?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Yes, I <em>do</em>. If you will have me," she replied firmly, jutting her chin out in defiance as she watched him carefully to gauge his reaction. He was still looking as though he had misheard.</p>
<p>"<em>Why</em>?" he asked desperately, a pained expression fleeting across his slightly misshapen features. "Why <em>me</em>, Madellaine?"</p>
<p>"Because you and I, we're alone in a world that's cruel and harsh to us both," she explained passionately. "I have no one in my life save for a few that I can truly call my friends." Madellaine fell silent, returning her attention back to the sunset. She smiled as she watched the city slowly begin to rouse from its slumber, and the citizens of Paris began to emerge from their homes to go about starting their days. "My circus is performing a show tomorrow," she said softly. "Will I see you there?" she asked, biting her lip and sticking out her bottom lip in a playful little pout.</p>
<p>"I know," he answered bitterly. "I...I'm sorry, Madellaine, but I...I can't go with you. I'm <em>not</em> going. Never again. No," he said, glancing up and placing a loving hand on the stone parapet tower. "No, this is where I belong. I'm not going outside ever again. The people—they made fun of me, tortured me. <em>No</em>."</p>
<p>Madellaine felt the beginnings of a wry smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She fought it back as she stood, stretching, and wincing at the stiffness in her joints. Her time alone with Quasimodo was up, for now. She knew he needed some space.</p>
<p>Madellaine turned to leave, but not before she turned, hesitating, and shooting him a shy smile that almost made the man's heart stop right then and there.</p>
<p>"You know, that's too bad," she said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Since I don't remember much of Paris from when I was here last, I was hoping you could show me around. Anyways, that's not the point. I was <em>really</em> hoping to see you there, get to know you a little better. Maybe afterward, you could have shown me Paris since I'm new here, but if <em>not</em>, well, then I guess I'll have to go alone," she confessed, teasing him as her delightful laugh ringing in his eardrums long after she'd left his tower.</p>
<p>He fell silent, stunned, left alone to ponder her words. Quasi didn’t know it yet, but he’d already made up his mind to go with her to show her the sights of Paris before he was even aware of it himself.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>20</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>ESMERALDA </strong>hadn’t expected to run into Madellaine on her way up the tower stairwell to see Quasi this morning following breakfast, but that was exactly what happened. She very nearly tripped and likely would have, a hand over her racing heart, not having expected the young blonde circus performer to be up in the man’s tower, had Madellaine not shot out an arm to catch her fall.</p>
<p>“Th—thank you, my friend,” Esmeralda gasped, heaving as she fought to catch her breath, clutching at a stitch in her side. Noticing the young woman’s reluctance to stick around, this immediately raised suspicions. “Oh, but won’t you stay for breakfast? I brought food,” she chuckled in what she hoped was a non-accusatory voice as she gestured to the covered basket she’d packed before coming. Phoebus was on his way up, having paused to say a cherry ‘Hello’ to the Archdeacon and a few of the sisters.</p>
<p>She paused as she studied the blonde circus performer’s reaction. Esmeralda wasn’t sure what she was expecting to come of Madellaine refusing her offer, though for the young woman to have a look of abject discomfort and dawning embarrassment on her face was…not it. She furrowed her brows into a frown. She wondered if something had happened up in the tower between them.</p>
<p>“Ah, n—no, E—Esmeralda, that—that won’t be necessary, thank you. I’m afraid I need to get going, b-but will I see you and your husband at my troupe’s circus later?” she questioned, biting down on her bottom lip in a slight pout as she wriggled her brows at La Esmeralda.</p>
<p>The younger girl’s sudden suspicious behavior gave the young Romani woman pause. She filed a mental note to ask Quasi about what had happened in a moment when she reached the top of the landing, but for now, she forced her mind to remain in the present and answer her query.</p>
<p>“We will. Phoebus and I will be there,” she promised warmly, and against her better efforts, was unable to quell the mischievous twinkling glint from sparkling in her pale green irises, almost darkening them somehow as she knew she was about to cross a line, but she couldn’t manage to pretend to care. “I think Quasi will come too if you ask.”</p>
<p>“He—he said that he might go with me, but I'm not going to hold my breath. But maybe, you'll have better luck with our friend than I will, my friend,” Madellaine answered with a shrug of her shoulders, her blush intensifying.</p>
<p>Before Esmeralda could say anything further, the young blonde circus performer swallowed down past the lump in her throat and politely excused herself with a brief incline of her head and barreled down the stairs, almost running into Captain Phoebus on his way up. She let out a breathy little squeak but couldn’t manage to summon up the energy to apologize to him. Her husband barely managed to stammer out a “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” before Madellaine quit the scene and fled from the north bell tower stairwell as fast as able.</p>
<p>The married couple paused at the top of the stairwell, watching the young blonde performer’s silhouette fade until she disappeared around the corner once she reached the bottom. Neither Esmeralda nor Phoebus made a move to enter Quasi’s tower until they heard the unmistakable sound of the cathedral’s front doors being open and closed.</p>
<p>“I think…” Esmeralda paused, uncertain of herself and not at all sure how to voice her suspicion. “That Quasi’s new friend is hiding something, Phoebus,” she murmured softly. “Her aura was apprehensive. <em>Dark</em>.”</p>
<p>This was news to the captain. Phoebus hadn’t heard of the two of them hitting it off. But he was more than a little pleased that his friend might have found a good woman, though he wasn’t sure what to make of the suspicious look etched on his wife’s face as her eyebrows rose in alarm. “Let’s see if we can find out more from Quasi,” Esmeralda murmured, lowering her voice, and reaching for the wooden door’s handle, pushing it open.</p>
<p>Luckily, they found the younger man looking in a stupefied daze out on the balcony, as he tended to favor this particular spot whenever the weather was favorable.</p>
<p>Captain Phoebus erupted into a wide, slightly playful grin and clapped the red-haired bell ringer on the back, startling the boy so badly that he almost dropped the new carving he’d been whittling away at. Quasi shot the taller, golden-haired archer of the king’s guard a withering look.</p>
<p>“What’s this my wife is telling me about a <em>girl</em>, my friend?” Captain Phoebus began, a teasing lilt to his voice. “We saw her on her way out the cathedral. She’s cute!”</p>
<p>Quasi shot him a dark look, but Phoebus either didn't notice or didn't care. "She's…beautiful, a—and smart and kind, and funny," muttered Quasi in spite of himself. He didn't know why he was talking to Phoebus; he chose to keep most details of his life private, but then again, Phoebus was considered a friend.</p>
<p>The captain smirked and rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. I've seen that look before. All right, what's she like? I can tell by that look in your eyes. She's got you right where she wants you, I think. These women, all these broads are all alike. Every last one of them is all <em>nuts</em>, Quasi, you'll learn soon enough, they're going to kill us all and inherit the world one day, just watch," he laughed. "What does she do? You've not had a visitor up here beside us in a long time, let alone a woman, so talk to me. <em>Well</em>?"</p>
<p>Quasi paused. How could he even begin to put her beauty into words? He had none. As he thought of Madellaine, how she hadn't seemed bothered by his deformities, at least what little of it she'd been able to see, or his red hair, he found himself at a loss for words as he couldn't find his voice to tell the captain what he truly thought of her, how her beauty and a kind soul took his breath away and rendered him speechless. He felt his cheeks flush hot, and his stomach was heavy.</p>
<p>His heart pounded in his throat, threatening to break out. His eyes wandered the crowded streets of Paris, hoping to spot any sign of her, to catch a glimpse of her blonde hair and green and white dress one more time before she faded from his line of sight. How her blue eyes had a certain softness to them, there was something so welcoming in the light blue azure hue like the sea after a storm. Quasi felt just a little more lost, a little more at home in his tower when she came up here.</p>
<p>"She's <em>nice</em>," he said at last, reaching up a hand to scratch at an itch behind his ear. "She—her name is Madellaine," he confessed, watching in shock, as the captain's grin grew wider into a huge white smile. "She—she's going to be at the circus later tonight."</p>
<p>The captain sensed the bell ringer's hesitation and frowned as he looked at the younger man, his brow furrowed. "You're going."</p>
<p>"Oh, no I'm <em>not</em>!" he snapped hotly, growing irate. "I can't…"</p>
<p>"You like this girl, don't you?" Phoebus challenged. "I see it in your eyes, Quasi. I don't know who this Madellaine of yours is, but the fact that you have this look in your eyes is more than enough for me," he said harshly, the commanding bark of his captain's voice coming out now.</p>
<p>"Yes," Quasi answered immediately, feeling his hackles rise.</p>
<p>"Don't start giving me grief, Quasi. I won't hear of it. I<em> don't</em> want to hear your excuses anymore. You're going. Don't give me that look; you <em>know</em> I'm right. You want to get closer to this girl; she expects to see you there tonight, so you're going. You speak often to me and Esmeralda of wanting your life to change, how you don't want to be alone forever up here, but you don't seem to want to do anything to fix it. Well, this girl, she came to see you just now, and she's part of the circus this year. It's the perfect opportunity, Quasimodo. Why, in just another two years and you'll be twenty-three, and if what the nuns are telling me is true; you've not had the pleasure or the experience of being with a <em>woman</em> if you know what I mean. If you're lucky, she'll help you...become a <em>man</em>."</p>
<p>The captain smirked and took notice of how red the bell ringer's face was turning at the jab.</p>
<p>"Use the opportunity to do yourself some good for a change. Take her out; show her the little things the city of Paris has to offer. And maybe, just maybe, you'll be surprised by what she thinks of you." Unable to resist adding in one last quip, he clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "And, if you're <em>really</em> lucky, she might even give you a kiss! Maybe more, if you play your cards right," he laughed, watching in amusement as the man's face went pale.</p>
<p>As he spoke the words to the young bell ringer, he was surprised to hear himself offer the advice. Usually, this sort of thing he turned over to his wife, but Phoebus de Chateaupers liked to consider himself a straightforward man, and a man with a plan as it happened, and right now was helping the boy get the girl.</p>
<p>So perhaps Phoebus hadn't always been a good, straightforward man—proved indeed by the events of the past year, burning of Paris and all that, but he had at least tried to be a good man for his wife, and that had to count for <em>something</em>, or so he thought sometimes.</p>
<p>Phoebus's thoughts were interrupted, as his wife emerged out on the balcony, barefoot and beautiful in a simple purple skirt and white peasant blouse and brown corset. He smiled at her, and she smiled back warmly, tossing her dark curly ringlets over her shoulder.</p>
<p>His wife knew what he was thinking.</p>
<p>Quasimodo, however, tried his best to keep his feelings to <em>himself</em> now that Esmeralda and Phoebus were married and were happy. His feelings wouldn't help anyone, and it certainly wouldn't help the bond he was forming with the two of them, or with his new friendship with the girl from earlier. Madellaine. If his heart was heavier, well, it was something that came with being human. <em> What would they think of me, then?</em> He mused.</p>
<p>Phoebus was well aware Quasi had, at least for a time, and perhaps still <em>was</em>, in love with Esmeralda, although the captain could almost see the flickers of hope passing through the man's blue orbs as he recollected on his visit with the young blonde woman.</p>
<p>It wasn't like the bell ringer had tried to hide it at first, although Quasi would have traded anything to not show it at all—he wanted nothing more than to be a supportive friend, no matter what Esmeralda wanted, even if that had always been Phoebus, and not him. But that did not make it any less painful to witness, such as in times like right now.</p>
<p>He, Quasi resolved, would make a supportive friend to Esmeralda and Phoebus, and of course, their children whenever they got around to having them.</p>
<p>A startled shout broke Quasi out of his musings. The captain was staring at the bell ringer’s carving table with a look akin to awe in his twinkling hazel eyes, as though he’d never quite seen anything like it.  But then again, Phoebus never really stopped to take in the tower surroundings, either.</p>
<p>He poked one of the figurines with a calloused finger. "You've got quite a talent, kid. You should consider selling some of your work in the marketplace. You could make quite a name for yourself. But I didn't come here to talk that this morning," he said, his grin slowly creeping back now, the corners of his mouth twitching as he smiled.</p>
<p>"What's this the nuns downstairs are telling me about that girl, Quasi? The two are you are…<em>close</em>? How <em>close</em> are you becoming? Have you…?"</p>
<p>Her voice trailed off as a mad blush speckled along her cheeks. Esmeralda stood in the archway that led out onto the rose window balcony, a brow quirked in the bell ringer's direction. Her arms were crossed, and a suspicious scowl etched on her features. Quasi felt his face redden quickly and he recoiled.</p>
<p>"She…she’s nice," he mumbled quietly, turning away.</p>
<p>"I was just telling our boy here that he owes it to himself to go to her circus as a show of support. Would do him some good, get out of this dusty tower and maybe you'll even get yourself that girl before the night is out," joked Phoebus, taking advantage of the uncomfortable silence to shoot the redheaded bell ringer a dark look. "You're <em>going</em>. That's that. Don't argue with us. You know you'll lose, Quasi."</p>
<p>Quasi opened his mouth to argue but seemed to wither and deflate under the captain's unusually stern glare. He nodded. Esmeralda, still suspicious of hearing of the young blonde from earlier from Laverne, made a mental resolve at that moment to keep an eye on her, whoever the girl was.</p>
<p>She was extremely protective when it came to Quasi, and she didn't want him to be so heartbroken again.</p>
<p>From what Sister Alice could tell her when the woman had stopped Esmeralda when they arrived at the church, the little blonde, Madellaine, had seemed nervous and almost upset for the duration of her visit.</p>
<p><em>She's hiding something</em>, Esmeralda thought darkly.<em> I'm going to find out what it is. I'll be damned if she breaks his heart. I won't let her</em>. The Romani just didn't trust anyone without a visible weakness. It made her wonder if Madellaine's kindness towards Quasi was all a facade over something less stable, not honorable, what her intentions were. For now, Esmeralda let the thought go, making a note to introduce herself to the blonde later tonight at the festival if she had the opportunity to do so. She forced a smile and hoped it was genuine.</p>
<p>"Well, I'd love to meet her tonight, Quasi. <em>Officially</em>, that is. I’ve talked with her a few times, but I would love to talk with you both together. We'll see you."</p>
<p>Unable to resist after the pair, Quasi shouted, "Next time, don't bring the goat!" he called out irritably, earning a boisterous laugh from the captain in return. Phoebus and Esmeralda made their goodbyes, leaving the bell ringer alone to ponder the turn the day's events had taken.</p>
<p>Quasi froze, the beginnings of fear reemerging in his heart at the thought of going up on the stage again for this year's festival. The fear traveled in his veins but never made it to his facial muscles or his skin. His complexion remained pale and matt; his eyes steady as he cast a longing glance at the world outside.</p>
<p>Through a swirl of sickening fears came Madellaine's voice, so sweet and innocent, shy, kind, and quiet, like a soft summer breeze, casual and light. Quasi knew at the moment that he was going to go tonight, if only to see her again, even if it was just for a moment.</p>
<p>He <em>needed</em> to see her again. He recollected how she laughed at his jokes, how she'd marveled in wonder at his carvings, truly delighting in them. Her smile, how beautiful it was.</p>
<p>Nothing in his face betrayed his fear; it was a mask of defiance and surety. The fear would need an out, of course, but there was a time and place for it, and right now was most certainly not the time, nor the place. As Quasi started out at the bustling city of Paris, if he looked close enough, just over the hill by the meadow, he could see the entire world from here most days it felt like. On any other morning, he would have smiled at the couples filling the streets, walking in sync, holding hands.</p>
<p>He would have hoped to see his future reflected in them, his hand being gently touched by a woman who adored him and smiling at him.</p>
<p>But not this morning. Quasi had gotten so lost in constructing scenarios for the evening ahead and how it might play out, that he was surprised at how far he'd come. Before this morning, he'd flat out refused to attend this year's summer festival, and now he was planning to go, all for the simple hope that Madellaine would be there.</p>
<p>The rational part of his mind was screaming at him to change his mind, that it wasn't too late to stay in his sanctuary up here in his tower, to never go outside again, to not be tortured by the people. But the other, emotional half of his brain says he can't do that to Madellaine.</p>
<p>His future was waiting for him tonight at the circus…</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>21</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>MADELLAINE </strong>didn’t know how long she’d been waiting at the edge of the city’s outskirts, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Sarousch’s circus as possible. If it meant keeping Quasi away from harm, then so bloody be it. She would accept whatever punishment her master saw fit to dole out, but she could not let her friend get hurt.</p>
<p><em>Not after all he’s done for me so far</em>, she thought, a little bit sad, while she nervously wrang her hands together and bit down on her bottom lip in a fit of anticipation.</p>
<p><em>Maybe it’s better if Quasimodo doesn’t com</em>e. <em>It’s better that you stay far, far away from me, my friend. I will only hurt you if you come tonight. Stay away, please, just stay away. Don’t,</em> she thought, blinking back the beginnings of salty briny drops that were gathering at the edges of her lids.</p>
<p>Sniffling once or twice in frustration, she let out a frustrated sigh as she angrily wiped the wretched tears away with a flick of her finger, thinking that if she could have, she’d have likely filled a well full of water if she gathered all the drops with as much crying as she’d done.</p>
<p>A familiar warbling voice startled the young blonde so badly that she screamed before she could stop herself.</p>
<p>“He <em>will</em> come, my dear. I’ve already foreseen it. He cares for you, lovely. He is quite taken with you, as it happens. T’is what is taking him so long and causing the delay, Barreau. He’s best working out how to tell you his feelings,” the old crone spat with a look of disgust on her face. “Sarousch has already seen to this for you, there’s no point in trying to wriggle your way out of it. This is as good as it gets for you, little poppet. He’ll show up in a minute or two, just give him some time,” the elderly Russian witch cackled to Madellaine lowly.</p>
<p> <em>Yaga</em>, Madellaine thought bitterly through clenched teeth, whirling around on the heels of her boots, one hand grasping at the fabric of her long-sleeved light green linen long dress. Casting a truly withering glower of daggers towards the haggard-looking crone, her black raven, Bram, perched on her hunched shoulder, preened a little at the sight of the blonde circus performer.</p>
<p>“O—oh,” she stammered, her voice a little too high pitched and forced for her liking as she tried to force her cheeks to mold themselves into a reluctant little smile while Yaga merely scrunched her face and tried not to roll her eyes at the younger woman’s growing discomfort while she stood in wait for <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>“Madellaine?” came the familiar soft, tenor-like tones of her friend’s voice. Baba Yaga triumphantly smirked at the young blonde, reaching up a gnarled arthritic finger to stroke the bird’s plumage, snorting at the look of utter disbelief and horror on Madellaine’s face.</p>
<p>Madellaine’s eyes went wide as she did not need to turn around to recognize the soft, melodious tones of the bell ringer of Notre Dame.</p>
<p>It was unmistakable. She would know it anywhere. Her blue eyes went wide, and the poor thing looked like she’d been gut-punched.</p>
<p>Yaga, as Madellaine met her gaze, tried to look even remotely comforting and gave the girl her best, ‘It Will be Alright Smile,’ though in actuality it looked more like a pained grimace coming from her. Everything would most certainly <strong>NOT</strong> be alright, Madellaine knew.</p>
<p>She wished the ground beneath her boots would open up and swallow her whole as her ears perked up upon hearing his footfalls.</p>
<p>Quasi walked with a bit of a lumbering gait, considering how tall the man was, towering over most at around 6’3 or so, give or take.</p>
<p>And then there was the matter of the slight hump on his right shoulder that caused him to lean a little bit whenever he walked, but it didn’t seem to slow her new friend down any as Madellaine sensed his nearness. She swallowed thickly down past a lump forming in her throat. As delighted as she was to visit with Quasimodo again, for the man’s own safety, she wished that he would have stayed the hell away.</p>
<p>The dread in her voice was obvious as she beseeched Baba. “Oh, Baba,” she whispered, lowering her voice so that only the witch could possibly hear her. “Oh, please, <em>no</em>, <em>please</em> don’t make me <em>do</em> this to him.” Her tone was desperate, just shy of begging the old witch no to.</p>
<p>But she knew she would receive no help from the Russian old crone as she snickered and smiled as she leaned forward so far onto the balls of her heels to whisper into Madellaine’s ear, that it was a wonder she didn’t fall flat on her face. “You’ve got no choice, little dove. <em>Go</em>…”</p>
<p>Madellaine’s expression was one of utter disbelief, and the blonde looked sick as she felt a sheen of sweat start to throng along her brow and trickle down her temples, her face now paling and turning an interesting shade of green the moment she turned and faced the adoring gaze of Quasi. She blinked, startled at his new appearance.</p>
<p>He’d changed his clothes, that was the first thing she noticed of her friend. No longer favoring the green woolen tunic she had seen him wear the two or three times she had spent in his company thus far, tonight he was dressed in a black tunic with gold trim at the edges of the sleeves, neckline, and hem, and a pair of black leather breeches, his black boots having looked to have been shined so much that Madellaine was almost blinded. His red coarse hair had been trimmed, Madellaine didn’t know by whom, but she guessed the man held a favorable relationship with one of the nuns in the church who had cut it for him.</p>
<p>Madellaine stood unmoving, her gaze drawn once more to his face. His sharp, angular features. High cheekbones and a strong jawline, almost Roman-like features. The way his fiery ginger hair sparkled in the light, as though the man had been kissed by the fire itself upon birth.</p>
<p>She liked seeing him this way, the change in her friend. For a moment as she stared deep into the man’s pale blue irises, she felt herself start to drown as her eyes raked over the man’s mostly handsome face. She did not notice the contusion over his eye, or the hump near his shoulder, which was mostly disguised by his tunic.</p>
<p>“I…” Madellaine stammered, a light pink blush speckling along her cheeks while she struggled to regain control of her voice, her breaths catching in her throat. But when she tried, nothing came out.</p>
<p><em>At least I’m not the only one struggling</em>, she thought, feeling somewhat supplicated that Quasimodo too, was almost gawking at her.</p>
<p>His eyes raked down her petite form in her long-sleeved green linen dress, at her blonde hair that fell in stray wisps and strands to just below her chin that framed her face that she had painstakingly washed twice before heading out to meet him, to wipe away any evidence of her tears that she had been crying earlier this afternoon.</p>
<p>For a moment, the man simply stared at Madellaine Renee de Barreau as though she were a goddess, his only wish was to worship at her feet. Esmeralda and Phoebus had told him that she would be here. Now, Quasi was standing face-to-face with the girl of his dreams and at an utter loss for what to say to the blonde performer.</p>
<p>He could hardly believe it. She really was here. They were together again. She was just as beautiful if not even more so in her new dress than the first moment back at the cathedral when Quasi had first laid eyes upon her. His legs went to jelly beneath him, and his breaths stuttered in his lungs. Quasi could only stare at Madellaine across the way, knowing he should say something, compliment her, but…<em>what</em>?</p>
<p>Every ounce of adoration and growing affection that he felt for his friend came rushing back to his lungs so fast, he almost choked. He wished he were handsome like Phoebus was, that he could saunter up to Madellaine, turn on the charm, and tell her she would be his by the night’s out with a fiendishly seductive smile like he gave Esmeralda.</p>
<p>However, that didn’t work for an accursed wretch like him. Besides, both Esmeralda and Phoebus warned him to be on his best behavior tonight. He had to, if he wanted to win over Madellaine’s heart and tell her that she was welcome in the cathedral (and in his life) for as long as she was comfortable with.</p>
<p>Madellaine for her part could only move when Baba Yaga shoved her violently forward. Madellaine let out a squeak as she felt the Russian woman’s bony elbow dig into her forearm through the layers of her green linen dress. “Close your <em>mouth</em>, wench, you look like a dying <em>fish</em>,” Yaga whisper hissed angrily.</p>
<p>She thought she complied. She could only stare in disbelief as Quasi shot out an arm to catch her before she could fall flat on her face in front of the man and embarrass him even further, she felt herself leaning into something hard and strong. Her blush intensified as her vision slowly but surely cleared. It took her a moment to realize it was Quasi, and the thing that her hands were splayed across was his chest.</p>
<p>“I, um…thank you,” Madellaine squeaked out breathlessly, immediately stepping away from the church’s bell ringer as though the closeness of the sudden unexpected, and intimate gesture burned her.</p>
<p>He too looked rather flushed and bowed somewhat awkwardly, inclining his head as if to silently say there was nothing to it at all. Quasi parted his lips open to speak, though before he could, a familiar husky voice caught his attention, causing his head to whiplash sharply upward.</p>
<p>“Quasi! Madellaine! We’re over here,” called Esmeralda’s voice. A light, bright smile snaked its way across his features, making the man look even more handsome in Madellaine’s mind.</p>
<p><em>He should smile more often, it suits him,</em> Madellaine thought affectionately, sadly.</p>
<p>“Follow me, I’ll introduce you,” he said, grabbing onto her hand, not hearing the gasp of surprise at the warmth his gloved hand gave off as Madellaine’s hand slid effortlessly into his. “These are my friends, Esmeralda, who I think you’ve already met, and her husband, Phoebus,” he said, practically dragging the young blonde to where Esmeralda and Phoebus stood on the outskirts of Sarousch’s campsite, close to the baker’s shop.</p>
<p>Almost as if on cue, Captain Phoebus with his golden hair the color of the sun came up behind her, a devilish smirk on his handsome face. His hair was tied up in a bun to keep it out of the way, his white king's guard cloak swishing with his movements. He had charisma, charm. Madellaine could tell the captain of the guard was a good man.</p>
<p>"Milady Barreau," Phoebus complimented warmly. "Nice to see you."</p>
<p>Madellaine, remembering her manners, dipped into a low curtsy, not wanting to meet the captain's eyes. "The pleasure is mine, Captain," she said warmly, glancing sideways at Quasi and eyeing his black tunic and breeches, the shirt hung open slightly to reveal the hollow of his throat, and if Madellaine craned her neck forward to see, she could, in fact, see the briefest beginnings of his broad but strong, muscular form, underneath, and thought the man was looking handsome, briefly wondering where he'd gotten the outfit. The black brought attention to his red hair, which had been recently trimmed. She guessed the gargoyles had something to do with his new outfit.</p>
<p>"I don't believe I've had a chance to introduce myself," she added, fixating her blue eyes on Esmeralda, knowing full well she was lying through her teeth, but keeping up appearances for Quasi’s sake. "M-my name is Madellaine…I…I'm with the circus. Or I—I <em>was</em>, at least." The woman bit her lip in hesitation as she held out her hand.</p>
<p>Esmeralda took it, much to her surprise, and shook Madellaine's hand. When she spoke, her tone sounded pained. "Forgive us. We only want what's best for Quasi. We want to see him happy."</p>
<p>Madellaine smiled, shooting Quasi a quick wink. "I know. He's lucky to have good friends like you. You're his family."</p>
<p>"Yes," Phoebus said, smiling a little. "We are." He paused, and then finally reached out a hand for Madellaine to take. "And you are too, now, I guess. I apologize if I misjudged you, milady. It isn't usually like me to do so hastily. The king's guard has been getting...reports of thefts in town, and our first inclination was to point blame towards the circus," he said, a pained expression flitting across his handsome features. "I do not think you are the one responsible for these crimes, dear."</p>
<p>"I forgive you." Wanting to change the subject, Madellaine turned to Esmeralda. "So, Paris has been safer for your people?" Esmeralda looked startled for a moment, but then quickly recovered, her smile faltering.</p>
<p>"Well, it's been better. At least for me, since Phoebus's men know me now. But one change like that isn't going to fix everything overnight. Festival days are as good as it gets."</p>
<p>"For now," Madellaine offered. "Perhaps someday, the world will be kinder to everyone, to people like us. The outcasts..."</p>
<p>"Someday," agreed Esmeralda, looking thoughtful. She and Phoebus stuck around a few more minutes but could see how disgruntled Phoebus was getting, so they made their goodbyes and left the two of them alone at long last.</p>
<p>Quasi stared after them as they faded into the bustling crowd, shaking his head slightly, running a hand through his red hair in anguish. "I... apologize for Phoebus's suspicions of you. I don't know what that was about." He turned to her and fell silent. Madellaine grinned, knowing full well he was staring at her in her new green dress.</p>
<p>She could tell he wanted to compliment her. "<em>Well</em>?" she teased. "Aren't you going to say something?"</p>
<p>"I..." He was looking flustered, running a hand through his red hair, and weaving his knuckles in between his fingers, a nervous habit of his, Madellaine noticed affectionately.</p>
<p>"Yes?" she encouraged, biting her lip as Madellaine fought back the urge to laugh. <em>You're teasing him</em>, her voice scolded. But he didn't get a chance to tell her what he thought of how she looked tonight as the arrival of little Bella, the baker's girl, interrupted whatever he had been about to say next.</p>
<p>"Quasi!" squeaked the little girl, looking genuinely ecstatic to see him. Her hair was done up in a simple French braid with little purple flowers woven into her hair. "You found the pretty lady!" she exclaimed happily, squealing in delight as the bell ringer knelt, scooping the little girl up in his arms and hoisting her onto his shoulders, tickling her sides.</p>
<p>Her heart melted right on the spot.</p>
<p>"You have a way with kids," she complimented warmly. The young woman turned to little Bella and smiled. "My name's Madellaine. I like the flowers in your hair! Did you do that?" she asked, noticing how the little girl's smile lit up at the compliment.</p>
<p>"Yes, I did!" she chirped excitedly, a look of growing contentment in her eyes as she rested her chin in her elbows on top of Quasi's hair. Bella grinned and leaned down so her face was in front of his. "Didn't I tell you it would be worth it one day, Quasi? You've got a <em>girlfriend</em>!" she chirped, sighing dreamily.</p>
<p>Quasi's face drained of color at her question and he playfully reached up and swatted her on the arm.</p>
<p>"Bells, no," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Not right now!" Bella grinned and fell silent. She frowned when he didn't say anything to Madellaine and gave him a smack on his shoulder. He glowered up at her but didn't scold her. "I um...was wondering if maybe, you wanted to...I... this isn't coming out right. No one says that, I don't know why I said that," he mumbled, tripping over his words. "I was noticing how pleasant the evening is, and on the stage, I noticed you noticing me and how...pleasant I am," he continued, growing flustered the more he talked. His face fell as he noticed her amused expression. "Right. How's this going?" he asked, laughing despite his obvious nervousness.</p>
<p>Bella stuck out her tongue.</p>
<p>"It's clumsy," Madellaine giggled. "But in a charming sort of way."</p>
<p>"I think I hear a situation that needs saving," muttered Bella, rolling her eyes, prompting another swat from Quasi on the arm. She laughed and fell silent, waiting for him.</p>
<p>"A—a stroll," he said quickly, thinking fast and ignoring Bella frowning at his attempts to ask Madellaine for an evening out and rolling her eyes at his nervous behavior. "Would you like to take an evening stroll with me? I could show you Paris, it's—it's really pretty if you haven't seen it already, but then maybe you have, and—and if you haven't then—then maybe we could...I could...show you Paris?"</p>
<p>He bit his lip and fell silent.</p>
<p>"Just the two of us?" Madellaine asked, fighting back her laughter, although when she spoke up, she could hear the unmistakable note of hope in her voice. "Alone? Just you and me? Together? On a walk?"</p>
<p>"Yes. As people." He immediately cringed. "Oh, God, why would I say as people? That—that doesn't even make sense. I—I don't know why I said that, Madellaine..."</p>
<p>Madellaine smiled, the corners of her mouth turning up into a radiant smile. "I'd really like that," she said shyly, offering him her hand for him to take. "Shall we?" Madellaine teased. "I've never done this before, how does it work?" she questioned, craning her neck up to look at Bella from her perch on Quasi's shoulders. The little girl smiled.</p>
<p>"Do you like Brie cheese?"</p>
<p>"Yes," muttered Quasi, rolling his eyes at the question.</p>
<p>Bella shot him a dark look. "That wasn't for you, that was for <em>her</em>!" she snapped, swatting him on the arm.</p>
<p>"I do," Madellaine giggled, coughing to fight back her laughter.</p>
<p>"Oh, good! Since you do like cheese, you should take her to the bakery, Quasi. Papa will make her something special! You'll love it!" she squeaked, scrambling down off his shoulders, and scampering away as the sound of her mother calling to her reached her ears. Bella turned back shyly and waved before disappearing into the throng of people enjoying the Feast of Fools, following her mother.</p>
<p>Stunned, Quasi stared after Bella, shaking his head in disbelief at her antics. He turned to Madellaine and offered her his arm. "Shall we?" he asked courteously. "I did promise you, after all…"</p>
<p>Madellaine dipped her head in acknowledgment and instinctively reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'd like that," she whispered shyly, biting her lip. They made their way through the bustling streets of Paris, gathering a small feast to take back to his tower. Everything from sausages, roasted potatoes, various blocks of cheeses, little pastries. He smiled the more the two of them collected. They made plans as they walked to carry it up to his tower and watch the circus from high above as they ate.</p>
<p>A faint pang of guilt nagged at the back of Madellaine's mind at bringing luxuries like this into the cathedral.</p>
<p><em>But that isn't how it works</em>, she reminded herself, picking up a hunk of Grana cheese and sniffing it before deciding it was sufficient and tossing a coin to the merchant, wrapping the wedge of cheese into a handkerchief and slipping it into the little knapsack she wore on her back to carry their purchases.<em> God wouldn't begrudge me a small pleasure with a friend, would He?</em> Madellaine thought, never letting go of his hand except to store a new purchase into her bag from time to time.</p>
<p>No one would be up there to scold them for it. "Wait!" Madellaine called out desperately, tugging on his arm once they'd reached the baker's shop. The fresh-baked aroma of bread wafted out from the open shop door and into the streets.</p>
<p>Just the smell was enough to make her mouth water. Quasi turned back, looking confused. "We should get a gift for Sisters Maria and Maria and Brother Paul. They—they work so hard, it would be a nice thing for us to do, since they can't get out and enjoy the festival," she offered, cringing as she tripped over her words.</p>
<p>His smile to Madellaine at the suggestion was one of a soft glowing sunset that practically made her heart stop.</p>
<p>"They would love that, Madellaine. It's a great idea! We'll get them something here to take back for them," he said.</p>
<p>The town's bakery was a rundown little shop, looking decrepit from the outside. But once you stepped inside, you were greeted by the most enthusiastic baker with a smile as warm as his loaves. Each one was lovingly hand-made in the Romanian style; heavy, dense, hearty, and nutritious. In the air, it seemed more delicious than any flavor imaginable. Somehow the aroma captured everything good in there, the different bread loaves and pastries. The two men that ran the shop, a pair of brothers, were more brothers than anyone Madellaine had ever known.</p>
<p>They had all the love; all the rivalry and the jokes only close people can dish out and take. In the early years, there had been tension between the two, but now those old reminisces were more than enough to hold the pair together. It wasn't that they never disagreed. At times, they did so with so much flair, you'd swear they were Italian, but like any relationship mellowed with the age of time, they bore no grudges. One floury slap on the shoulder and a deep laugh, and all was forgotten.</p>
<p>The pair of brothers greeted Quasi warmly as he took Madellaine by the hand and led her inside, to take in the sights and the wonderful aroma. "Ah!" Bella's uncle said warmly. "If it isn't our local hero! What can we do for you this fine evening, Quasi?"</p>
<p>Curious, Madellaine glanced sideways at Quasi to see his face flushing pink in embarrassment. "I'm not a hero," he said quietly, his face white and he suddenly looked uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"Nonsense! You freed our people! You should be proud!" the former gypsy said, removing a freshly baked baguette out of the brick oven. Bella's Brother noticed Madellaine pull a small handful of farthings and shillings out of her bag and irritably waved the offer of the money away. "No," he said, annoyed.</p>
<p>His brother—Bella's uncle—spoke up. "You don't pay here," he said kindly, his gaze flitting from Quasi to Madellaine.</p>
<p>"What?" Madellaine asked, glancing to Quasi for confirmation, who was looking just as stunned. "N—no, we can't do that! Please, just let us pay you for it," Madellaine begged, not wanting any special attention on Quasi's behalf.</p>
<p>"We insist. Please..." Bella's Brother scowled. "Just take the bread! I insist!"</p>
<p>"Thanks," muttered Quasi, not wanting to argue any further and deeming the matter a lost cause. Quasi winced as he ripped off a small chunk of the bread loaf, wincing as it burned the tips of his fingers. He tasted it, and the bread had a certain crunch to it that brought so many good memories to his mind, now that Frollo was dead, his life filled with people he could trust like Maria and Alice, Phoebus, Esmeralda, and now Madellaine, he hoped. He ripped off a small segment and handed it to Madellaine so that she could have a taste. "Careful," he warned. "It's hot."</p>
<p>Madellaine reached out a gentle hand and took a bite, savoring how the crunchiness and how the bread sent immediate warmth all throughout her body, from her throat to the tips of her toes in her boots. She smiled at how good it was, the top of the loaf glazed with just a little bit of honey, giving it a sweet taste that offset the crunchiness. It was a moment before she realized Bella's father was saying something.</p>
<p>"You've chosen a wonderful man to love," he said kindly with a smile on his tanned face, fixing Madellaine with a quizzical stare and a knowing wink. "Better take good care of him, girl, or you'll have the whole city after you. Treat him well, and don't break his heart. He's suffered enough."</p>
<p>Madellaine stared, her mouth hung slightly open. Before she could open her mouth to explain that he wasn't her suitor, that he was just a friend when she heard a startled shout and some furious gasps from the crowd. Turning around, Madellaine was horrified to see poor Quasi splattered with something red and sticky in his hair, it looked like a tomato.</p>
<p>He looked horrified and beside himself, his body shaking uncontrollably as he fought back the worst of his temper, though she knew his anger was how his fear manifested itself, much like her own did. It was how they coped with men like Sarousch and Frollo.</p>
<p>"Oh, no," Madellaine whispered, terrified. If she couldn't get him under control, there's no telling...</p>
<p><em>He just can't make a scene here. If he does, the people will truly see him a monster. Don't let him. Calm him down. You can do this, Madellaine. Do this for him. You can do it</em>. Only two men were laughing, the rest of the crowd didn't know what to do, and they just stood there in stunned silence. "That's what you get, you <em>freak</em>!" shouted the first man, an overweight man with a protruding stomach and a mustache. The second man delivered a blow to poor Quasi that sent him sprawling backward, crashing into a nearby vendor's stall.</p>
<p>The merchant scrambled on her knees to pick up the fallen produce. "Watch it!" she snapped. "Watch where you're going, kid!" she bellowed, but he paid her no mind. The baker shouted obscenities at the two men, emerging from the doorway of his shop to go tell them off and scatter the remaining onlookers.</p>
<p>Madellaine tried to comfort him, but she was at a loss for what to do, what to say to him. The shadows of the beating were on Quasi's skin and on his heart. The knowledge that people would do such a thing to him just broke something inside of him, something that would remain long after his skin and bones heal. There was such sadness in his eyes, a heaviness and unyielding sorrow. Sighing, Madellaine knelt and reached up a gentle hand to pick out bits of tomato, cringing slightly.</p>
<p>"Quasi, it's all right," she whispered soothingly. "It's just a tomato. We can wash it off when we get back to the tower," she reassured him kindly, still continuing to pick bits of the fruit out of his hair. Glancing around, annoyed, Madellaine saw that a few stragglers had remained, simply watching the two of them, and she was horrified to learn that one of them was one of the cathedral's guards, "What are <em>you</em> looking at?" Madellaine shouted, feeling her temper swell to dangerous levels. "Get out of here! There's nothing to see here! <strong>MOVE</strong>!" she roared at the top of her lungs, irate. It was enough to at last scatter the onlookers.</p>
<p>People seemed to be puzzled by Madellaine, why a beautiful young woman such as the blonde would be wasting her time with a man like Quasi, and sneering at him as they passed, some commenting under their breath as they walked by, shooting the pair of them jealous, confused glares.</p>
<p><em>This city continues to get stranger</em>, thought Madellaine sadly.</p>
<p>"Come on," Madellaine urged kindly, pulling him to his feet. "Let's go home," she whispered, shooting him a brief wink. "We didn't get all this food for nothing, did we?" Madellaine laughed, gesturing to her knapsack on her back. "It will get cold soon. Let's go!"</p>
<p>Quasi didn't talk much on the walk back to the cathedral. Occasionally, Madellaine would have to pause and make him stop to pick out a fresh bit of tomato from his hair. His skin erupted into goosebumps every time she touched him, she noticed, and she was briefly troubled by the revelation that she liked it, the way she was making him feel. They climbed to the tower in silence and took the food out onto the balcony to watch the rest of the festival from one of the turrets.</p>
<p>"Thank you," he said at last to Madellaine after they'd finished eating. By the time they had polished off the last block of Brie cheese, the sky was fully dark. "You have forgotten a poor devil on the streets. You stood up for me when most wouldn't have. You dared to show me a little compassion when most mock me for what I am. I would pay for less than that with my life," he said solemnly, taking her hands in his and bringing them to his lips for a gentle kiss.</p>
<p>Madellaine stared, surprised at his boldness, but she liked it. It caused her stomach to roll and butterflies to form within. She wanted him to do it again. "You forgot that poor devil," he continued. "But he will remember. Always," he said, seeing the hurt look she gave him.</p>
<p>"You don't understand," Madellaine whispered, pausing, and reaching up from her spot on the balcony's railing where she sat next to him to caress his cheek. "I never want you to be harmed. Ever. I don't want to chase you away or put you in harm's way. I don't think I could live with myself if I let it."</p>
<p>"Thank you," he said warmly, his voice cracking slightly. He reached up a trembling hand and brushed back a stray wisp of Madellaine's blonde hair behind her ear. "I..." His voice trailed off, and he looked away for a moment. "I like you," he confessed, at last, sounding pained. He turned and placed his arms around Madellaine, and she felt herself lean in closer to him instinctively without thinking anything of it, despite her mind screaming at her to stay this madness, and let him down gently before her heart got broken again. The wound of Sarousch's betrayal was still too great. "I was wondering if...well when you came up to my tower your first night here in the cathedral when you and I talked, you chose to focus on my eyes and my face," he said cautiously, noticing the catch in her breath as it caught in her throat. "You don't see...<em>this</em>," he said bitterly, gesturing to the contusion over his eye and his red hair, which truth be told, was not as bad as he made it out to be. He still had a handsome face, and a beautiful smile, and a great voice, and that was more than enough for Madellaine, "When you look at me, I <em>know</em> you don't. You see something different. What is it that you see when you look at me? Tell me, please..."</p>
<p>"I only see you," Madellaine responded shyly, not even needing to think about her response. "Just you."</p>
<p>"I knew it," he whispered, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he felt the beginnings of tears well in his eyes. He turned away sharply for a moment, giving himself a second to get his bearings under control. He turned back to Madellaine, a soft smile on his lips.</p>
<p>"Th—there was…s-something I…I wanted to ask you tonight. I took a chance and came out of the shadows to come to the festival tonight," he said shakily, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I—I was wondering if you would like to...if I could...court you?" he asked, at last, flinching.</p>
<p>Madellaine froze, feeling her face remains impassive for a moment as she processed his declarations of his feelings for her before she broke into a huge grin and nodded, feeling euphoric. "I'd really like that. I'd like that a lot," she whispered, the words practically spilling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "More than anything." Madellaine was amazed at how easily she seemed to have fallen in love with him.</p>
<p>It was admitting to herself that it happened that was the hard part for her to accept. But here they were, and she was so glad, even if she was sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing him right here in front of her, waiting for her to speak. It was then that Madellaine realized he was waiting for her to saying something. She blushed and quickly racked her brain for something to say. "Thank you," was all she could manage to come up with.</p>
<p>"For what? I didn't do anything," he protested lightly.</p>
<p>"You did everything right," Madellaine responded warmly. "You accepted me for who I am, not for who you wanted me to be."</p>
<p>"I just want you to be happy," he said kindly. Quasi smiled.</p>
<p>She could see the emotions behind his blue eyes, as if he longed for more, but was afraid to take the next step. So, she would.</p>
<p>Not knowing when it happened, her lips were suddenly locked with his, kissing him. Madellaine was mindful to be gentle, given that she knew he had probably never done this before, kissed a girl, and the last thing she wanted was to frighten him off. The start of the soft-touch sent a strong feeling of warmth spiraling through her system. Madellaine closed her eyes fearlessly, but it didn't let her see darkness, which was what she was fully expecting to happen. Instead, the closure created colors of fondness. Her tense nerves soon began to relax, her troubles, and her pain began to melt away and the surroundings began to disappear up on the balcony.</p>
<p><em>This</em>. This felt true and right. She could feel him stiffen involuntarily at the expected contact as if he expected her to break apart and explain away the slip in her balance at any moment, to apologize for the accident. But it wasn't one.</p>
<p>Quasi's eyes briefly shot wide open and his arms hung loosely at his side, not knowing what just happened or what to do. Inexperienced though he was with this, he quickly closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in her succulent kiss. He broke apart first, looking dazed and confused.</p>
<p>"I—what was <em>that</em>?" he gasped. Madellaine looked back at him, and there was a softness in his eyes. He felt his hands wander of their own accord, no longer taking directions from his mind, one drifted up towards the back of her skull and pressed in softly, enjoying the softness of her hair as the scent of something floral wafted through his nostrils, and the other came to grip almost painfully tight on her waist. "I…" His voice trailed off and he looked away, seemingly struggling with whatever was weighing on his mind.</p>
<p>Poor Quasi was mortified, frozen to his spot in front of Madellaine. He was traumatized. He couldn't believe this had happened and in front of her. His head had begun to spin. He'd never live this down as long as he lived. There was nothing for it. Quasi bit the inside of his cheek as his mind reeled.</p>
<p>Truth be told, he felt a little dizzy the more he looked at Madellaine, and the glances he did catch of her looking at him were…really something. She was gorgeous. They stared back at each other for what felt like hours until Madellaine finally dropped her gaze.</p>
<p>"Did you like it?"</p>
<p>"I...no, yes! I.... I'm <em>lost</em>," he confessed, his cheeks painted a bright red. He tried to open his mouth to say, "Thanks," but it wasn't coming out. He was debating on whether he was having a heart attack or a panic attack. Either one seemed plausible given his frozen state of mind and inability to speak a coherent thought. At last, he found his voice again. "Th—thanks," he stammered, coughing to quell his nervousness.</p>
<p>"And there's…one more thing," Madellaine spoke up, her voice quieter now, less confident, and sure of herself. She lifted her chin and looked back up at Quasi; a gentle flush of pink had appeared in her cheeks, giving her a vulnerable look, like she was scared of what the future held.</p>
<p>Though in this day and age, with people like the ones who had attacked him out there, who could blame her for feeling that way? Quasi drew in a sharp breath of cold night air and held it as she leaned up on the tips of her toes and tentatively pressed her soft lips against his for a second time.</p>
<p>He became self-conscious and briefly wondered if his lips were cracked. Probably. Quasi fully expected Madellaine to pull away from him, but that moment for the man never came. Quasi <em>tried</em> to kiss her back, though he honestly had no idea what he was doing. Madellaine either didn't seem to notice his inexperience or didn't care.</p>
<p>She leaned into him slightly, dropping her bag at her boots.</p>
<p>His head had gone hazy, his body became stagnant at the sensation of her lips on his. He couldn't believe it was really happening to him now. Just as Quasi was about to deepen the kiss and lose himself in the moment, she pulled back, almost violently so, a look of apprehension on her face. She leaned in to whisper something into the shell of his ear.</p>
<p>"You aren't the only one who's lonely, Quasi," she whispered, holding out her hand for him to take.</p>
<p>Quasi stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, his eyes half-lidded and dazed as he still tried to process what had happened just now. She had…she had <em>kissed</em> him. A goofy sort of grin began to creep onto his face and Madellaine knitted her brows together in confusion and she shook her head.</p>
<p>"You act like that was the first time a girl's kissed you."</p>
<p>"Err…" He felt the heat creep back into his cheeks. "It…it <em>was</em>…"</p>
<p>Madellaine took a step closer, something akin to amusement and…something else in her eyes glinting there, like a deep dark secret.</p>
<p>"Would you let me do it again?" Madellaine asked. Unsure, not confident and all, and almost disbelieving of her own actions, but wanting desperately to show him how she felt, Madellaine did not give Quasi a chance to react before pressing her lips against his mouth, kissing him. Quasi's blue eyes widened in shock as he stood there, unable to move, the bell tower's environment around him utterly spinning as he tasted Madellaine's sweet lips. He was shocked, yes, any fool could see that, but it was more so the tentative stupor of being given the one thing that he wanted the very most, and afraid that if he moved, then all of…whatever this was, would disappear.</p>
<p>Quasi could not afford to take any risks with his friend. Even if this was exactly what Madellaine wanted, he had to be certain. No woman had ever kissed him. It was this thought that caused Quasimodo to barely bring his own lips to meet hers. He was too shell-shocked.</p>
<p>Never before had he been affected by a woman. The concept of love and courtship was foreign to the desolate, lonely bell ringer. But then again, during the growing weeks of his increasingly warm friendship with the young blonde, never had he been so sure of this feeling that sent a spiraling warmth through his chest, and so uncertain of his actions, not knowing what to do. The feeling of the young blonde's body pressed firmly and tight against his was almost too surreal and good to be true, and Quasi seized up, utterly frozen.</p>
<p>He was terrified of making a wrong move with Madellaine. He prayed that she would not misinterpret his reaction, but unfortunately, Madellaine did just that. Madellaine quickly realized that Quasimodo was not at all reacting to her passionate kiss, or to her nearness.</p>
<p>Shaken and horrified, she pulled apart first and back from him, searching his confused blue eyes for the truth. Her expression registered her utter confusion at the boldness of what she had just done and her hurt. Madellaine drew her hands from his arms and brought them up to cover her mouth a horrified squeak escaped her lips.</p>
<p>Horrified by the realization of her actions, Madellaine could only gape at the flushed bell ringer. She stood there, shocked, numb for a moment, and then backed away from Quasimodo in embarrassment.</p>
<p>"I…I'm so <em>sorry</em>," she begged, mortified, her cheeks pink and flushed high with color. "Forgive me, Quasi." But as she moved towards the interior of his tower loft in an attempt to flee, Quasi caught Madellaine gently by the wrist and brought her back around to face him, not letting her go.</p>
<p>"Th—the last thing I want in this world is to h—hurt you," he murmured, his tenor-like tone heavy with desire for his friend as her passionate kiss left him with a fiery warmth spreading throughout his wretched chest. His affection-filled eyes met Madellaine's blue ones. "B—but…a—are you sure?" he asked lovingly, caressing her cheek delicately with the tip of his finger.</p>
<p>Madellaine stared. For a moment, not able to speak. All she could do was nod yes in agreement, unable to take her eyes away from his. She was awed by the depths of Quasi caring for her. As she continued to look at him, she realized why the bell ringer had not met her kiss with eagerness as she had hoped that he would, and she loved him even more for how much he silently respected her, the things that he would not say to her, but went out of his way to show.</p>
<p>Quasimodo was inexperienced in the ways of courtship, romance, love, and had wanted Madellaine to be completely assured of them, and totally comfortable. She mirrored his quiet movements and brought her hands to either of his face and held him tenderly.</p>
<p>"Yes. I've never been surer of anything in my entire life, my friend. I—if you will have me," she smiled nervously, tears coming to her bright blue eyes. "Will you?" she asked, biting her bottom lip, and falling silent. Quasi did not speak, at least not at first, though he drew Madellaine closer to him by way of his response, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her again, eager for another, for Madellaine to do it again. He wanted more of her.</p>
<p> She looked very much as he imagined he must look in the moment. Shocked. Confused, in a daze. But as he gazed at Madellaine, he was <em>struck</em> by something. A warm feeling deep inside of him, this feeling that he could not explain, but liked. He truly <em>liked</em> it. Looking at Madellaine, seeing her. Feeling her. Kissing her. It gave him…<em>peace</em>. <em>Happiness</em>. Feelings that, aside from the company Victor, Hugo, and Laverne gave him, had never been made available to him before. Frollo made sure of it. He tilted his head as he looked at her.</p>
<p><em>Beautiful</em>, he thought wildly.<em> Perfect…mine. Mine. Mine. All mine</em>. He said it in his head over and over again like a mantra. It was the only one that came to mind as he looked at Madellaine, who'd started out as his friend. And was now…something more. This warm feeling was so heavily rooted within, almost consuming him. He wished he had a word for it. The same mantra kept repeating in his mind until it was all he could think.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mine. Mine…all mine. No one else's. Not his. Just… Mine.</em>
</p>
<p>He leaned down and placed his mouth to hers, his lips meeting hers with fervor, lost in her embrace. He pulled her closer, cutting off the gap of space between them, content to never let her go if he could help it, unaware that there were still forces who worked and wished to tear the two apart.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>22</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>PHOEBUS</strong> wasn’t sure how it had quite come to this. A cold sweat broke out along his browbone as he walked up the stairwell to the bell tower loft, the numerous complaints of thefts in town ringing in his fatigued eardrums. His blond brows furrowed into a frown as he wracked his brain for how to deliver the news that he had suspected ever since the circus had rolled into town. That she was somehow behind it all, even albeit reluctantly, but he harbored no evidence.</p>
<p>Captain Phoebus restlessly paced the wooden floorboards of Quasi's tower loft, knowing full well that with each creak that gave way beneath his boots signaled his arrival. He hated that their friendship had come to this, but it was a conversation he was going to have to have sooner or later.</p>
<p>A loud resounding <em>thump</em> coming from behind reached his ears, and he winced, turning around slowly, a cold sweat on his brow, though it was currently furrowed in agitation as he regarded Notre Dame's bell ringer, a man who had become something like a brother to him over the last two years. He was grateful they had, for the most part, been able to put aside their differences surrounding Esmeralda and moved on with life.</p>
<p>"Quasi, I was hoping you would be up here this morning," he began hesitantly, not wanting to look the younger man in the eyes, as he continued his restless pacing. Back and forth he went, not sure of where to start, but what he had to say needed to be heard. "Sit. You're gonna want to hear what I have to say."</p>
<p>Quasimodo furrowed his uneven brows together in confusion.</p>
<p>"What's wrong, Phoebus?" he asked, a note of urgency in his voice as he pulled up a spare chair and kicked it over towards Phoebus with the edge of his boot. "You look like you're about to pass out. Sit down."</p>
<p>He shot Quasi a dark look but quickly nodded in thanks. "I-I've come on official king's guard business this morning, my friend, I'm afraid. There's been a reported number of thefts in town. We're actively looking to retrieve peoples' belongings, but…it's come to light the circus, the very one Madellaine belongs to, is somehow responsible for it all. I can’t prove it, but…numerous descriptions match her likeness. I have to question her and possibly take her in under this suspicion.”</p>
<p>Quasi's face remained blank and impassive, though his face contorted into a twisted grimace as he frowned. "Do you have any <em>proof</em>?" he demanded hotly, feeling the beginnings of hot anger develop like a fire-seed in the pit of his stomach. "Madellaine's <em>not</em> behind the thefts, Phoebus!" he growled, narrowing his blue eyes in suspicion as Phoebus shook his head. "She—she's <em>different</em>!" When Phoebus did not respond, still having perfected that look of impassive indifference, his blood ran cold, and he was barely aware of Esmeralda climbing the tower's loft ladder and coming to stand behind Quasimodo. "I know she is innocent, she's different…"</p>
<p>"Maybe," growled Phoebus, feeling his own temper begin to swell. "And <em>maybe</em> she's just using you to get something else. What all do you know of this woman you're courting?" he snarled, bolting from his chair so fast he overturned it with a loud crash that made both Quasi and Esmeralda wince.</p>
<p>One glance over at his wife was more than enough. She was silently fuming and shocked.</p>
<p>"You don't really know anything about this girl, do you? Thank God Madellaine's not here to hear all of this. Where is she, Quasi?"</p>
<p>"Out," he answered coldly. "She went to the marketplace."</p>
<p>"Damn," Phoebus murmured under his breath, running his hands through his thick blond hair. "She's been declared a person of interest in the theft per your master, and I have my orders to arrest her on sight if she so much as sets one foot out of these walls," he shouted, his temper erupting now. He looked quite livid. "Madellaine is in danger, Quasi. I don't know if she did it or not, but I've got no choice here. I have to take her in."</p>
<p>The poor boy had such a lock of shock on his face that were this any other situation in another time and place, it would have looked comical.</p>
<p>But right now, laughing was the last thing Phoebus felt like doing.</p>
<p>"What are you going to do?" Esmeralda asked softly, coming to lay a gentle hand on Quasi's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She did not seem at all fazed by Phoebus's outburst and was regarding her husband with a cold look that rivaled steel.</p>
<p>"You <em>have</em> to go out and find her, bring her back here before one of my other men gets to her first," growled Phoebus angrily, feeling a muscle in his jaw twitch as he turned sharply away. "I can stall them for a bit, but it's not going to be long enough." He turned back towards Quasimodo.</p>
<p>Immediately, he did not look like the growing look of anger in the young boy's eyes. And then it hit him, and Captain Phoebus felt his face drain of anger.</p>
<p>"Oh, you cannot <em>possibly</em> be <em>serious</em>, Quasimodo! You would really leave her out there like that all alone?" he yelled, taking a few strides forward and leaning in forward, closing off the gap of space between them. Phoebus was taller than Quasi by a few feet at 6'3, but only by an inch or so on a good day, but it did not change the fact that Notre Dame's bell ringer was more intimidating.</p>
<p>It was no secret that the boy possessed such inner strength that was almost godlike. He had, after all, managed to break through iron-wrought chains and in the process of freeing himself to save Esmeralda from burning at the stake at the hands of Frollo, had caused four stone pillars to crack and break under the boy's brute strength. Quasi could very well kill Phoebus in just one blow or good throw if the boy was of a mind to.</p>
<p>"I—I can't go out there again," he answered softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he folded his arms across his chest. "No. You saw what they did to me, how the people revile a monster like me. I can't."</p>
<p>Phoebus ground his teeth in anger, silently seething.</p>
<p>"I can't <em>believe</em> this," he snarled. "Just a year ago, you risked your life to save Esmeralda from burning, and only <em>now</em> you're afraid of what people will think of you? I never would have believed this, the man who saved an entire race of people, a <em>coward</em>." He knew as the words left his mouth that they had hit their mark, judging by the way the boy's shock of red hair whiplashed violently upward to regard the captain in dawning horror.</p>
<p>"I can't put Madellaine through that kind of scrutiny, Phoebus! Not after last night! I swore I would never go back out there, and the people would just mock me again if I did."</p>
<p>Phoebus let out a warning growl from the back of his throat and seized the young boy by the scruff of his green tunic and shook him slightly.</p>
<p>"That didn't stop you from sneaking out to the festival to see her last night. You have a girl out there who cares for you more than anything in the world, and you would just let her get arrested by the king's men? She—she stood <em>up</em> for you at the festival when those men were picking on you. I saw the whole thing for myself, and I was touched at the way she came to your aid, and if this is how you repay you, you've got a hell of a funny way of showing your <em>gratitude</em>," he added, his expression softening for a moment, and then hardening when he saw the dead look in Quasi's eyes.</p>
<p>He let out a haggard sigh and relinquished his hold on the boy's tunic and shoved him backward. Esmeralda moved to stand next to Phoebus, but he pulled away from his wife the minute she lay a tanned hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>"She likes you a lot, Quasi. But I would be <em>lying</em> to you if I said that this whole thing isn't suspicious. The girl is <em>hiding</em> something, and she's hiding <em>from</em> something, and I'm going to find out what it is. I can stop my men for a while, but sooner or later, it's not going to be enough. Sooner or later, my friend, you're going to have to make that choice…"</p>
<p>"Madellaine's <em>different</em>," snarled Quasi, curling his fingers in a fist at his side to prevent himself from lashing out at something in anger. In this case, it might just very well be Phoebus's face if he couldn't control himself. "You really think she's <em>using</em> me to get to something? You don't think she could be interested in me…just for me…do you?" he snapped.</p>
<p>"No, I—yes, o-of course, anyone could, but look at the facts!" Phoebus yelled and then realized a moment too late what he had said.</p>
<p>"Find some, and I will!" Their friend retorted hotly, before shooting one last scathing look at the captain of the cathedral guard before disappearing out onto the balcony terrace of the Rose Window balcony.</p>
<p>Phoebus watched, his shoulder sagging in defeat, as Esmeralda shot her husband a scathing look and quickly followed Quasi out onto the terrace. Scowling, he headed back down the stairwell towards the church's exit, slamming the front doors behind him in his wake, not giving a damn how loud it was. His horse, Achilles, was waiting impatiently tied to a post. He gave a whinny of frustration and stomped his hooves in agitation at the sight of his disgruntled master.</p>
<p>"Achilles, do you believe this? Everybody is mad at me. How often does that happen?" His frown deepened as the horse began to tap his hoof. One…two…three…four… "Very funny, boy, that was a rhetorical question that I did <em>not</em> need you to answer. Let's go."</p>
<p>Phoebus grunted with the effort to mount his stallion's saddle, digging his boot heels into Achilles' sides to coax the hose into a low steady trot.</p>
<p>"I don't like what this has come to, but I've got no choice, I have my orders. I've got to follow them, boy, and you know it," he growled, talking more to himself than to his horse at the moment. I'm going to have to arrest her when I find her. I can only pray that she makes it back to the cathedral before any of his other guards get to her. He let out a groan and looked to the heavens for help, whispering a silent prayer to God—if anyone was there—for Him to help Phoebus.</p>
<p><em>May God protect you, Madellaine, and keep you safe. God be with you. You're going to need nothing short of a miracle to get out of this</em>.</p>
<p>The knight's gaze was soon drawn towards a young woman expertly weaving her way through the crowds of the marketplace, trying her best not to draw attention to herself and failing miserably. Phoebus stifled a groan as he dismounted Achilles and led the horse behind him by tugging on the beast's reins. He crept close enough and got a flash of yellow and dark green to know it was none other than the woman he had been ordered to arrest.</p>
<p>Gingerly, he reached out and tapped her on the shoulder, praying to God that he did not startle the young blonde girl.</p>
<p>Madellaine let out a tiny squeak of fear and whirled around, a look of utter surprise on her delicate features, but her face relaxed when she saw it was Phoebus. She dipped her head in shame, a blush speckling along her cheeks, and dipped into a quick curtsy. "Captain," she breathed.</p>
<p>He furrowed his blond brows into a frown at how skittish the girl seemed, as though she had been expecting someone else. "You are well, then?" he asked, courteously offering the girl his arm, with intent to escort her back to Notre Dame, where Phoebus knew she'd be safe.</p>
<p>It was the best he could do for her, though he longed to do more. "You were expecting someone else?" he teased gruffly, not waiting to envelop the woman who held Quasi's heart in a gentle hug. The girl was becoming something like a sister to him. "Come. Walk with me, dear, keep me company."</p>
<p>"What are you doing all the way out here, Captain Phoebus?" she inquired quizzically, her eyebrows raised in suspicion.</p>
<p>The knight chuckled. "Oh, I'm merely…helping out a friend," he said at last, not wanting to divulge the vulgar details of his errand of dropping Frederic at the brothel off before going to talk to Quasi, in front of her. She did not need to hear that kind of language. "And I could say the same to you, my dear," he challenged, noticing how shifty the woman was becoming. Her eyes were darting in complete disorder, and she was practically biting her lip off. Something was wrong. He could feel it.</p>
<p>"I see," she said, her lips pursed slightly, but she decided to comment no further and dropped the matter. Madellaine intertwined her arm with the knight's and walked. "How is Esmeralda?"</p>
<p>"She's fine, but it is not my wife I wish to talk about today," he answered airily, brushing away her concerns with a wave of his hand. "You are looking quite troubled. What's ailing you? Talk to me."</p>
<p>Madellaine nodded her head slowly as she listened to the distinguished warrior's words. However, she could not help but shake the feeling as if something were amiss. She'd felt it ever since she snuck out of the cathedral early in the morning for some fresh air. She hadn't told Quasi where she had gone.</p>
<p>No doubt, there would be hell to pay for what she had done when she returned. She could not help it. Though she loved the intricate, magnificent beauty of the cathedral, the wanderlust consumed her, burning her soul as if she were in the middle of a raging fire. Her reality, though it had recently gotten so much better, thanks to Quasi and the others in the cathedral, was now much harder with no noticeable way back home to her that she could see, at least.</p>
<p>She had spent the better part of the early hours of the dawn taking in the streets of the city, getting to know her new home. However, she could not shake the feeling that she was being followed. Like…someone was <em>watching</em> her. Madellaine hated this feeling; it felt like ice water in her veins, that there was no shaking it.</p>
<p>She could not very well tell anyone about this feeling, though. Not without solid proof, that she was in fact, being stalked. Baseless accusations with no evidence wouldn't hold up well for her, and probably the only one who would believe her would be Quasi, and he so very rarely ventured out past the cathedral.</p>
<p>"My dear," Phoebus spoke up, at last, looking suddenly tense. "Something ails you. Do not bother lying to me; I see it in your eyes. What's troubling you, child?" he questioned, finding shade underneath an old willow tree by the river Seine and finding that appropriate. He patted the ground next to her, motioning her to join him. She obliged, cringing at the stiffness still in her shoulder.</p>
<p>Madellaine sighed, tucking back a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear and fidgeted with the skirts of her green dress. "It's…<em>home</em>. I fear that mine will soon be lost," she sighed, casting a longing glance towards the cathedral in the distance.</p>
<p>"Your home is here," Phoebus answered, looking surprised at the morose tone of her voice. "We are your friends and we love you, Madellaine. Shouldn't that be enough for you? Quasi thinks the world of you. He won't say as much and come outright and admit it, but it's there…"</p>
<p>Madellaine was touched at the remark, and opened her mouth to speak, but didn't get a chance to as the sound of crunching leaves interrupted whatever she had been about to say, and she was pleasantly surprised to see Captain Phoebus's squire around Madellaine's age, a year or two older, and best friend Frederic stumble towards them, looking happier than the last time she'd seen him alongside Phoebus's company, his dark hair disheveled and messy, an odd grin on his face, at least until he noticed her sitting there with Phoebus, and his smile faltered.</p>
<p>"M—Milady," he muttered, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I—I did not expect to find you here, forgive me, I just…"</p>
<p>"Ah!" teased Phoebus, clapping the young squire on the shoulder as he sat down on the ground against them. "The return of the conquering hero! If I didn't know any better, I would say you have a little <em>jaunt</em> in your step, boy. I take it the girls took care of you earlier," he teased, his gaze flitting back and forth between young Frederic's flushed face and Madellaine's, who had bit her knuckles in an attempt to keep from laughing. "You were gone a long time, Frederic. I trust you got your money's worth. Or should I say, <em>my</em> money's worth," he joked, and was stunned when Frederic threw the pouch of coins back at him untouched.</p>
<p>"Sir," Frederic began to say, wearily glancing back between Madellaine, who was looking confused at the squire's sudden shift in attitude. One minute he had a bold swagger about him, the next, he was nervous and almost clammy at seeing her again.</p>
<p>"It was a <em>gift</em>, Frederic!" Phoebus exclaimed warily. "This is more than I give you in a year!" he protested, begrudgingly pocketing the pouch, and raising his thick brows at his young squire.</p>
<p>"But Phoebus, you don't pay him," Madellaine reminded the knight gently, her blue eyes twinkling as she fought back her laughter. This was turning out to be quite the morning.</p>
<p>"Oh," he said, looking nonplussed. 'Then it's much more than I give you in a year! What gives, boy?" he demanded.</p>
<p>He shifted from his spot on the ground and smoothed out his thick tunic. Frederic's cheeks were high and flushed with color, his dark hair disheveled, and his blue eyes seemingly nervous. "They—they wouldn't take it, m 'lord," he mumbled, rendering the knight speechless. "The—the girls refused."</p>
<p>Even Madellaine was impressed. "Perhaps they're trying to curry some favor with the cathedral's most distinguished member of his guard?" she suggested, not certain what their reasons had been.</p>
<p>Phoebus shot the woman a bewildered look. "Have you ever known a woman of <em>those</em> natures to turn down gold?" he asked, stupefied. "The girls are always happy enough to take it whenever my men give it to them," he said, glancing down at the ground and staring at his boots. When he looked up at his squire again, there was a surge of determination in his face. "What did you say to them?"</p>
<p>"N—nothing, sire," he said, looking sheepish and suddenly shy.</p>
<p>"Well, what did you <em>do</em> to them?" he prodded further, causing the young squire to squirm uncomfortably from his spot underneath the tree.</p>
<p>"Lots of things," he confessed, not sure he could divulge the gritty details in front of Madellaine. He caught Madellaine's eye and blushed, immediately looking away.</p>
<p>Madellaine bit her lip playfully; unable to resist teasing Phoebus's squire a little. She liked the man well enough; he was a kind man with a good heart. "And I take it the girls seemed to like it?"</p>
<p>His face paled. "Yes, milady," he mumbled, not daring to meet her teasing gaze. "Very much so," he added, as an afterthought.</p>
<p>"Of course, they seemed to like it," muttered Phoebus darkly, still looking thoroughly confused. "They're paid to seem to like it."</p>
<p>"But they weren't paid!" pointed out Madellaine, unable to keep it in any longer and burst out laughing, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "The—the women, they…" she trailed off.</p>
<p>Phoebus just stared. "What are you saying that these women enjoyed the boy over here so much they gave him the time for free?" he asked incredulously as if he had never heard of such a thing.</p>
<p>"Yes!" she giggled; glad the knight had finally caught onto it. Her gaze drifted to Frederic, whose face was as red as a tomato, but he nodded, confirming her suspicions. "Glad you had a good time."</p>
<p>She glanced towards Frederic and immediately frowned. It was quite strange, how the man could be so charming and polite in the company of others, and yet become so flustered and shy he could barely form words.</p>
<p>But Madellaine did not have time to dwell on it, as Phoebus rose to his feet, groaning at the stiffness in his joints and bade his squire follow him.</p>
<p>"Milady," murmured Frederic, a light blush speckling across his cheeks as he offered her his hand to help her up.</p>
<p>She hesitated but eventually accepted his hand. It did not escape her attention that the young squire held onto her hand longer than she would have liked, but she liked the man well enough and thought him harmless, so she let it go.</p>
<p>"I hope we see you again soon," Phoebus said solemnly, taking the time to embrace the blonde in a tight hug and bringing his lips to her cheek for a swift kiss. "Esmeralda looks forward to talking with you sometime, once…things calm down. I hope I can get to the bottom of all this soon. I think she misses having another woman in her life to talk to. It can get old, surrounded by a bunch of men, fast, as I'm sure you know," the Sun God joked weakly.</p>
<p>She managed a small half-smile and bid them farewell with a wave of her hand. "I hope to visit soon," she promised, but couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized that would probably never be a possibility for her again.</p>
<p>Not as long as Sarousch was after Quasi. She still had not quite forgotten that hungry look in his eyes.</p>
<p><em>And if he's the villain of this story, then what does that make me?</em> she thought darkly. <em>No doubt the man is planning something with Quasi, but what is it?</em></p>
<p>Phoebus's grin slowly faded, and his expression turned serious again. There was definitely something Madellaine wasn't telling him, but what?</p>
<p>"Take care of yourself, Captain Phoebus. Watch yourself," she muttered darkly; pulling the hood up over her brown linen traveling robe and turning to disappear back into the throng of her marketplace. She sighed as the cathedral's bells began to ring.</p>
<p>It wasn't afternoon Mass, yet, so she had no doubt in her mind now. She could stall no longer.</p>
<p>"You too," he answered gravely. "And Madellaine?" he called out as she made to turn away, though the seriousness of Phoebus's otherwise kind and jovial tone gave her pause. "You've my men after you. There have been complaints of thefts in town ever since the circus came to Paris. In case you weren't aware, I just thought that you ought to know. I don't believe you to be guilty of these crimes, but until I have proof, my hands are figuratively tied, milady," he continued sadly, noting how the young blonde's face paled in shock and disbelief. "It would be advisable of you not to venture out past the cathedral for the time being. Not for <em>anything</em>, do you understand?" he growled, feeling his voice go hard. Madellaine mutely nodded, her brain slowly absorbing all of the information Phoebus had just divulged to her. She couldn't leave now. "You get back and you <em>stay</em> there, you understand?"</p>
<p>She opened her mouth to speak further, to ask the man a question but was interrupted as the loud tolling of the cathedral bells chimed nearby.</p>
<p>Quasimodo had finally discovered her disappearance and had noticed she was missing. She made her goodbyes and seemed to melt into the crowd of people. As Captain Phoebus watched the petite blonde leave, he was hit with the unshakable feeling that before the year was out, something was going to happen.</p>
<p>Something big, but what it was, he couldn't say, nor did he even want to guess what it was. Madellaine was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she did not even notice that Sarousch was stalking her, <em>watching</em> her, the hood of his cloak pulled up over his face so that no one would recognize him…</p>
<p>She was <em>his</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>23</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>MADELLAINE</strong> couldn’t say for sure how it was that she knew Sarousch had been following her. Perhaps it was the sudden drop in the air temperature or the looming shadows as he clung to the darkness like the demon she knew the man to be. No sooner had Madellaine set foot inside the cathedral's nave when a low menacing chuckle reached her ears. She froze. Oh, no, not now, she swore under her breath and whirled around, only to find herself face-to-face with Sarousch.</p>
<p><em> Why now? Why me? Just go away, Sarousch...Just go</em>... The magician was looking handsome this evening in a brown linen shirt and pants, his boots muddy but still showing signs of having been well cared for. His dark hair was disheveled slightly, and his eyes were blazing.</p>
<p><em>He's angry with me</em>, she thought fearfully. <em>Oh, hell. Oh, shit</em>.</p>
<p>"I take it by the look in your eyes, girl, you have him right where I want him," he commended, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The man gave her figure an appreciative glance in her green dress. "I've not seen this one on you, pet, is it new? I know you've been avoiding me the last few days," he growled.</p>
<p>"Since when have you ever cared what happens to me? I thought I told you I don't want to be a part of your thefts anymore, so what do you want?" she spat venomously, doing her best to keep her voice low so as to not alert the other caretakers.</p>
<p>"As a matter of fact, I do, dear," Sarousch purred, coming up behind and snaking his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Has he taken you for himself yet?"</p>
<p>Madellaine felt her temper swell to the surface and she bit her tongue hard enough to bleed. Fuming, feeling her jaw become rooted as her teeth locked, she slapped hands away and wrenched violently out of the esteemed lord's touch.</p>
<p>"Oh, but it <em>is</em> my business, sweet little dove, when you <em>make</em> it mine," he growled, losing any semblance of warmth in his eyes. "His—and your life depends on him falling in love with you. If he doesn't, well…it won't end well for you."</p>
<p>Madellaine groaned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she shouted, momentarily forgetting to keep her voice down. She cringed and looked behind her, hoping nobody had heard it. "Why?"</p>
<p>"You're <em>mine</em>, Madellaine. You have proven yourself quite useful in my little plan, whether you know it or not, sweet thing," he growled.</p>
<p>A muscle in her jaw twitched as she refused to look at him. "What do you <em>want</em>, Sarousch?" she snapped, moving away from him, but he grabbed her by her shoulders and shoved her back against the wall. "And what plan? You have no plan!"</p>
<p>There was no mistaking the fear in her voice that was evident, and she swallowed down the lump forming there, and Madellaine knew at that moment that Sarousch had seen it for himself, and he had her apparently right wherever he wanted her, which was not good.</p>
<p>"You're not going to <em>bore</em> me, are you, Madellaine?" he asked, biting her earlobe, feeling his voice go dangerously soft and quiet. "Hmm? Surely, by now, you've heard the stories from others in the town of what happens to women who bore me, don't you, pet? Of course, you do, I see it in your eyes."</p>
<p>She glowered at him, a wildfire igniting in her Madellaine flinched as Sarousch buried his face in her hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the winter season. "Get off of me!" she hissed through clenched teeth, violently shoving him backward. "You're sick, Sarousch! I want nothing more to do with you,<strong> I WILL NEVER GO WITH YOU</strong>!" she shouted, not caring who heard anymore. "I want nothing more to do with your thefts, your murders, your damn schemes! I am done!"</p>
<p><em>Let them come</em>, she thought wildly. <em>Let me make a scene here; get Sarousch out of my life forever.</em></p>
<p>"I'm not here to take you back with us. <em>Yet</em>," he growled darkly, one hand groping her breast and enjoying it immensely as he watched the briefest flickers of fear pass through Madellaine's blue eyes. "Although you're mine, girl, don't forget that. I'm here to see you make sure you follow through with my plan. You and I, my dear, we're going to do such wonderful things together. We already are, pet."</p>
<p>"What makes you think I will? I hardly even know you, and if you think this is a way for me to suddenly grow to like you and if you think that for one second, I would do whatever you want of my own volition, you're wrong, Sarousch," she whisper-hissed, letting out a startled cry of pain as he wrenched her arm behind her back and gripped it tight, threatening to break it. She struggled against his hold, but his grip only tightened.</p>
<p>Sarousch leaned in close and whispered into her ear.</p>
<p>"Because if you don't do this for me, I will destroy your pretty little face and make you one ugly wench. What I am offering you is the chance of a lifetime, pet, and you're rejecting it. You must be touched in the head. I'm killing your gallant love, anyways, so why are you putting up such a fuss?" Sarousch studied Madellaine's face, and then it hit him. A wicked grin crept over his features and he laughed. "Oh, this is—this is <em>precious</em>! Don't tell me you've <em>actually</em> fallen in love with the man, have you? If this is true, this makes it all that much sweeter for me," he crooned.</p>
<p>"Sarousch, do whatever you want with me, but don't hurt him!" she pleaded, biting her lip and cursing herself for showing her weakness. "Please. I—I'm <em>begging</em> you, don't hurt him, please. Do whatever you want with me but leave the bell ringer alone! What's he done to you?"</p>
<p>Sarousch drew back his hand and slapped her, and immediately Madellaine began to feel blood pool in her mouth. She turned away sharply and spat, disgusted. "You talk back to me again like that, you won't have a tongue, wench. Just be obedient, child. That's all."</p>
<p>Wincing, she turned back to Sarousch, rubbing her cheek. "Hit me all you want," she snarled, her tone ice. "It won't change the fact that I will never go with you, Sarousch."</p>
<p>"I beg to differ," he responded coldly, glowering at her. He held out an envelope. "All you have to do is lure him outside—" But Madellaine cut him off before he could finish.</p>
<p>"He's not the monster here, Sarousch, <em>you</em> are!" she shouted. "You foul, loathsome evil son—"</p>
<p>"Mind your tongue!" Sarousch mocked. "You're in a church, after all, Madellaine. Mustn't offend <em>God</em> with your language, besides, to hear such foul words coming from your sweet mouth is an affront to the ears. Most unladylike of you," he teased.</p>
<p>When she found her voice, it was trembling. "No," she whispered furiously. "No, I won't do this," she spoke up, her voice coming out in a hoarse. "Sarousch…"</p>
<p>Scoffing, he let go of Madellaine and violently shoved her to her knees. "You'll do this for me."</p>
<p>Madellaine raised her head to look at him, beams of the moonlight streaming through one of the stained-glass windows, illuminating half of her face. "No."</p>
<p>He stared; certain he'd misheard her. "What?"</p>
<p><strong>"I SAID NO</strong>! Are you deaf now, Sarousch? I'm not going to have any part of this! I won't do it!" she shouted, rising to her feet and standing straight to her full height, her eyes blazing as she glared at Sarousch, her facial muscles tensing as she braced herself for whatever punishment he decided to inflict. "Get out of here, Sarousch!" she roared. "I never want to see you again!"</p>
<p>He didn't know what possessed her to grow a backbone during her time here in Notre Dame, but he liked it.</p>
<p><em>This bitch</em>, he thought wildly. <em>She's testing me. Don't let her get the upper hand</em>. Without a word, Sarousch grabbed her wrist in his hand and Madellaine bit her tongue hard enough that she drew blood as he broke her forefinger and she stifled a scream, tears streaming down her face as he popped the bone back into place.</p>
<p>"Don't test me," he warned darkly. "You're doing this, pet. If you don't, I'll kill you both. Slowly. Do I have your attention?"</p>
<p>Madellaine nodded, silently crying from the pain in her finger.</p>
<p>Satisfied, Sarousch smirked and released her. The last of her strength gave out and she collapsed to her knees in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary.</p>
<p>
  <em>She's judging me. I deserve to go to Hell after all of this.</em>
</p>
<p>Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she cradled her hand, biting her lip as she fought back the urge to scream. The pain had unpleasant warmth to it, eating her up from the inside. Madellaine reached for the back of a nearby chair to steady herself, her knuckles white with the effort as she stood. A wave of nausea washed over, and she fought back the urge to vomit. She prided herself on her ability to ignore her pain most of the time, but it wasn't possible now.</p>
<p>The pain she felt owned her, dominated her every thought, controlled her every move until she lost herself. Notre Dame's nave around her went black as Madellaine lost consciousnessss, falling out of her chair with a hard thud, already out of it as her head hit the floor, the wound in her hand reopening and soaking through the bandages, leaving a small puddle of blood by her limp hand.</p>
<p>The last thing she remembered before she blacked out was swarming visions in her head of Sarousch, and of Quasi. A woman was screaming, pleading for someone to stop.</p>
<p><em>Is it me</em>? Madellaine thought wildly, desperately trying to open her mouth to scream, but nothing came out when she tried. She was alone.</p>
<p>God couldn't save her from Sarousch. No help was coming for her.</p>
<p>
  <em>I have to do this on my own. Or die. God help me. If I have no way out, I'll kill myself. God forgive me, but I don't see any other way. Help me…</em>
</p>
<p>Her eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space, her heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading pleas for help.</p>
<p>Feeling in her body drained away until finally, all was black. She was not aware of a shadow looming over her as she lost consciousness, nor was she aware of being lifted in a pair of very strong, but very familiar arms, as the figure silently carried her back up the stairwell to the north tower.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hours later, Madellaine blearily awoke to the frigid cold of an unfamiliar cloister cell. She woke up before Sarousch could kill her. But she could still feel the presence of the chilling knife around her throat, digging deeper into her. Its sharp edges running around her smooth skin, ready to pierce her unblemished flesh. She could hear her heavy breathing and the sweat from her brow formed in beads. It was only a nightmare, but she had never quite recalled her dreams being this…this vivid.</p>
<p>The young woman woke as if it were an emergency as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing. Her heartbeat fast and there was a strange buzzing in her brain and a ringing in her ears. She knew without even having to look at the mirror's reflection hanging across the other side of the room that the day would pass as if she were hungover, not from drink, but from her nightmares that demanded a solution. The young woman let out a low whimper and moaned.</p>
<p>"Sarousch…"</p>
<p>Her nightmare had ended so abruptly, as she was shaken back into the horrible reality of her situation. Her blue eyes opened, her eyelashes faintly batting against her lids when she blinked. She was laying on a hard, unfamiliar cot, debating whether it would be wise of her to try to sit up. Her muscles felt weak and the muscles and bones in her fingers where Sarousch had so cruelly broken her finger and then snapped the bones back into place screamed and begged for relief from this pain.</p>
<p>Madellaine let out a tiny groan as she struggled to sit up, a half-choked sob of anguish escaping her lips, whimpering as she struggled to sit up and against the pillows behind her.</p>
<p>What time was it? How long had she been asleep? Did she have clothes on? A quick glance down confirmed she was still in her green dress from the other night. All these confusing questions swirled around in her exhausted mind, demanding answers.</p>
<p>Slowly and reluctantly, she opened her eyes further. She blinked, closed her eyes, blinked again, rubbing the sleep from the corners of her eyelids. Streaks of sunlight penetrated the dismal little barred window of the cell and blinded her.</p>
<p>Sarousch's threats of what he would do to her if she failed him through her mind, and Madellaine bolted upright, perhaps faster than she ought to have, and as she did so, she knew she had made a grave mistake indeed. Her stomach churned violently, and nausea clawed at her throat.</p>
<p>She tried to force down the bile, but it was too late. Madellaine was hardly aware of someone shoving a blue basin underneath her, and for that, she was grateful. Her stomach kept on contracting violently, forcing everything up and out. Her face was white as the pungent stench invaded her nostrils and she heaved again.</p>
<p>"Easy, just get it out. That's it," someone was saying to her—was it Maria? Madellaine gave a tiny nod, wanting to speak, but couldn't. She retched loud and hard into the basin until it was only clear liquid that was coming up. Her throat felt sore from the stomach acid that was layering it and her mouth tasted of bile. The stomach acid stench of vomit filled her nostrils as she surveyed the mess in the basin with watery, red-rimmed eyes.</p>
<p>Her stomach dry-heaved again but she fought it back, collapsing back against the pillows, feeling the sheen of sweat form along her brow, and her skin began to feel hot, feverish.</p>
<p>"Finally, we were starting to think that you might not wake up, dear," breathed the other woman's voice. Madellaine blearily tried to focus her vision a few feet in front of herself. She quickly realized it was Sister Maria, and she felt a little guilty as the pretty nun was looking at her rather expectantly.</p>
<p>Madellaine swallowed back the acidic bile in her throat and hesitantly reached for the goblet of water perched on the bedside table that looked like it needed two of its legs needing repairing soon. She cringed as the taste of vomit was washed from her mouth as she drank. Setting down the goblet back in its place, she winced as she looked towards the nun. "It's you. Maria...When…when did you get here?" she whispered hoarsely.</p>
<p>The nun had discarded her coif and habit and had opted instead of a pair of simple brown robes with a braided rope belt tied at the waist, her blue locks flowing loose and free in gentle layered waves to her shoulders. She snorted and regarded the young blonde over the rim of her wine goblet. Sister Maria crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest.</p>
<p>"Not very long ago. About an hour or two, I would guess," she clarified, chuckling a little at the young woman's dazed expression. Noticing Madellaine's brow furrowed into a frown and the sheen of cold sweat developing there, she instinctively reached for the basin again. "How are you feeling? Are you still feeling sick?" she questioned cautiously.</p>
<p>Madellaine shook her head no, clutching the thick woolen blanket tighter around herself. Now that her stomach had stopped lurching, she merely felt bruised inside, and empty.</p>
<p>Sister Maria gave a curt nod, setting the basin back down by her feet, crinkling her nose in disgust at the smell, but she would dispose of that later.</p>
<p>Right now, however, she wanted answers. Her and Sisters Rosemary and Maria had found the poor child passed out at the front of the nave early this morning, and one of her fingers looked as though it had been broken and then lazily and carelessly snapped back into place, and the girl would have quite the welt on the back of her head from her fall</p>
<p>Madellaine, with the help of Sister Rosemary, who had joined them silently, looking immensely relieved to see their young charge awake, sat up gingerly, propped up against her pillows. She could see her reflection in the mirror on the opposite side of the room that she looked like a right mess.</p>
<p><em>Battered</em>, they called it. Such a simple word for a simple idea. But this wasn't simple. Her sense of self, once a high and proud feeling of one destined for good things, now felt as bruised as her abdomen and as broken as the mirror she was glancing into across the way. She wiped the dried blood from her pallid skin, and when she reached down to study both her hands, she could see that they had been heavily bandaged and were trembling violently. Madellaine barely recognized herself.</p>
<p>Who was that in there now and why did she stay? By agreeing to go along with Sarousch's plan, she was putting not only herself in danger, but Quasi as well, and that was something she just could not do.</p>
<p>She gazed around the spare cloister cell at the broken and strewn possessions. <em>Did I do this</em>? She wondered.<em> If so, when</em>? And were they any different to herself? She stifled a sob with the scuffed palm of her hand and collapsed against the pillows. The sound of Sister Maria coughing to clear her throat jolted poor Madellaine out of her thoughts.</p>
<p>"Well?" she demanded hotly, keeping her arms folded across her chest as she sank into her set of robes for warmth as best she could. "Am I talking to myself or are you going to tell Rosemary and me what happened last night, girl? We found you passed out dead to the world on the nave floor, with two bones in your forefinger on your right hand broken. And it was bleeding something awful. We thought you were dead, so imagine our surprise when you started talking in your sleep. Easy now," the well-known nun cautioned, her tone softening slightly as she helped her sit up.</p>
<p>"Thank you," Madellaine managed to croak out hoarsely, gingerly rubbing her bandaged hand. "For everything."</p>
<p>"Are you going to tell us what happened?" demanded Sister Rosemary, folding her arms across her chest. "We know you could not have done such a thing to yourself. Who did this to you?"</p>
<p>Madellaine visibly winced, hating that it had come to this. "I—I can't," she whispered, turning her head away sharply.</p>
<p>"We can help you," Maria offered. "This place is your sanctuary, but only if you allow it. We can protect you here, but we must know who did this to you. What's his name?"</p>
<p>Madellaine cringed, taking a deep breath to steel her nerves. He was going to kill her anyway, most likely, so she might as well tell them. "His name is… Sarousch," she managed, at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sarousch."</p>
<p>"Did <em>he</em> do this to you?" asked Maria, reaching out a tender hand and turning over Madellaine's palm in her own, inspecting the bandages with a trained eye. "Answer us."</p>
<p>Madellaine let out a weary sigh. There's no point in lying.</p>
<p>"Yes." A thought suddenly crossed her mind and she bolted upright, her posture rigid. "Oh, God," she moaned. "Do Phoebus or Quasi know what happened to me last night?"</p>
<p>Maria and Rosemary shared a dark look. "No," they said in unison. "Neither of them knows a thing of what transpired."</p>
<p>Thank God, she inwardly thought. "Neither of them can know," she pleaded desperately. "Not yet. I need to tell them both. Privately. On my terms. I beg of you, say nothing."</p>
<p>"You're kidding, right? This is a joke?" Rosemary asked in disbelief, staring at the young blonde as though she had carrots growing out of her ears. "We cannot keep something like this a secret from those two. They deserve to know the truth, girl!"</p>
<p>"Especially not the boy," added Maria moodily. "I know you don't know of the history of what happened between him and Claude, but you need to understand that it's quite difficult—"</p>
<p>"I know enough," Madellaine interjected quickly. She could not go into details about how she knew, but thankfully, neither sister pressed her for an answer, for which she was grateful.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, child, but we have to tell them," Maria said somberly. Noticing the young blonde's crestfallen expression, she was quick to add, "But if you'd like our support, we'll be right behind you while you tell them both, every minute."</p>
<p>Madellaine breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Thank you. I will, I swear it," she reassured the pair of them, fumbling with her glass of water as she raised it to her lips. The cool water was refreshing, soothing her burning, aching throat as it went down. "You know, it's funny, but I never thought that I'd—"</p>
<p>The nun looked towards Maria for confirmation, who was looking equally just as stunned but given no time to react as the sound of someone making a small noise to clear their throat interrupted whatever the pair of cousins had been about to say next.</p>
<p>Both women swiveled their heads towards the door of Madellaine's cloister cell and gulped nervously to see Quasimodo there.</p>
<p>"Quasi," breathed Madellaine. "You—you need to calm down," she whispered, recognizing the signs that he was growing angry. "Right now." His arms were folded across his chest, and he was absently picking at a loose strand on one of the brown leather gloves he wore on his hands to protect his palms from the bells' ropes and from the bitter Paris winter chill breezes that tended to waft through his open, airy loft upstairs.</p>
<p>One leg was folded across the other as he leaned against the doorway for support, and that one stubborn lock of coarse fiery red hair had fallen into his good eye, that tended to act like a shield, a curtain between himself and whatever he did not wish to see.</p>
<p>Madellaine could just tell by the curt, sharp flick of his wrist as he irritably brushed it out of his eye, that he was royally ticked at her, but why, Madellaine did not know his reasons, and whenever he stood up straight like he was doing now at his full height of five foot eight, he tended to tower over the women, and especially Madellaine.</p>
<p>He looked, perhaps for the first time since she had ever known him, truly frightening, and when he lifted his chin to meet Madellaine's gaze, there was an icy coldness there that did not belong to Quasi's eyes, an unfamiliar hardness. Madellaine swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. She'd never seen him look like this. He was…yes, there was no doubt about it, he was angry.</p>
<p>She had seen him annoyed, upset, yes, but never angry. And she knew just by looking at him, that she was the cause of it. His head snapped up so fast that Madellaine had to move her head back to avoid connecting with it. He almost gave himself whiplash, he moved so quickly.</p>
<p>"How can you be so calm about this! Someone attacked you in the middle of the day on Holy Ground," he snarled. Quasi did not shout, but he seemed so shocked, and there were pain and anger all laced throughout his voice, and it was in his eyes. He was confused by her response. "You could have been killed today, and yet you are more concerned with my well-being. <em>Why</em>?" he yelled.</p>
<p>Maria, sensing the two needed a moment alone, gingerly shut the door behind her. Madellaine stared after the closed door for a moment, before returning her attention back to Quasi. He was definitely growing angry. Nope. There it was. That strange fire-seed of anger that came out. Because I think I like you. I like you a lot. And I never want to hurt you, her mind answered, but she dared not voice this thought. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she closed her eyes and tried again. "Because you are my friend, Quasi," she insisted again, trying to make him see her side of the situation. She just had to make him see this!</p>
<p>"But…" His voice was pained and staggered as he looked upon her.</p>
<p>"Because," she continued, raising her voice an octave higher so he could hear her. She could tell he was growing incredibly upset and angry. The laughter and kindness had evaporated from his eyes. His customary warmth gone faster than summer rain in the heat of August. Indeed, even his focus was somewhere at a spot on the wall behind her, as if Madellaine had become invisible to him or he could not bear to see her at all.</p>
<p>She had crossed some invisible line, offended his sensibilities by not coming to him when Sarousch was threatening her. Madellaine had seen him do this to mostly Maria whenever the older woman was greatly annoying him, but she'd thought their growing bond immune to this behavior.</p>
<p>Now, her blood drained and her heart hammered erratically inside her chest, pounding.</p>
<p>She was never afraid of his anger when it came as fire, for that burnt hot and fast, but she was deathly afraid of his ice, for it coated him like a protective sort of permafrost. This sort of behavior, a shield if you will, had saved him from the torments of his youth, but now that same method could isolate him from his family, from his friend.</p>
<p>And even…from her. It was pointless to try to reach him now, her well-meant words would bounce off him as good as hard rain. But she would still have to see him, thaw his anger, so it was up to her to return the loving spark to his eyes. Still, she tried again, and she would continue to try to reach Quasi.</p>
<p>"I meant what I said to you earlier. There is no one I trust more than you. And I have never had a friend like you before, my friend. I mean it."</p>
<p>"I do not deserve your friendship," he stated coldly, turning his head away from her. "Nor do I deserve your trust. I have done nothing but cause you hardship and strife. I found you passed out in the nave, with two of your fingers broken. Someone did this to you, probably because they saw us together and they thought you needed to be taught some kind of lesson. I don't know who it is that could have done this to you, Madellaine, but…your life would be much better off…w…"</p>
<p>Without me, his mind finished, but he could not speak the words. "I think you should leave," he answered coldly when he'd finally found his voice again. As he turned back to face Madellaine, the look on her face was too much.</p>
<p>She looked as though he slapped her. "I can't have you here anymore. It hurts too much, what I'm doing to you, Madellaine. Being around me is too dangerous, and I will not—I can not—have your life in danger, Madellaine."</p>
<p>"Where would I stay? I can't go to the inns! I have no money!" she demanded hotly.</p>
<p>"There are plenty of rooms downstairs in the available cloisters," he said airily, turning away from her. He did not want her to see him like this, so upset. Anger rose within her, but she stomped it down, refusing to let him see it. Why did he place the blame on himself?</p>
<p>Why did he feel like he was the one responsible? What had happened, it was her fault. She had insisted to stay and had made matters worse by refusing to tell him the truth about Sarousch and what he was planning. Unable to stop herself, she felt herself stomp her foot, a moment of frustration, and turned to firmly grip both of his shoulders and forced him to meet her gaze.</p>
<p>"Don't you <em>dare</em>!" she snarled angrily. "Don't you think for one second, one minute, that this was your fault! The blame is with me! I should have come to you with this, I should have…come up to your tower and gotten me if you if I'd wanted to go for a walk, but…"</p>
<p>Quasi's eyes widened at her seriousness and agitation. He had rarely seen her like this. "Madellaine," he murmured softly, surprised at her insistence.</p>
<p>"No, Quasi!" she interrupted, violently shaking her head and staring at the floor beneath her bare feet, which were freezing and she desperately wished she had a pair of slippers, but quickly shoved that thought aside, as it was not important at the moment, but Quasimodo was. "I am the one who has not been entirely truthful with you, about why I'm here…you're right in that someone did do this to me," she began cautiously, glancing down at her bandaged hand and flinching. She had to tell him the truth. "The—the truth is, I…I'm not who you think I am."</p>
<p>Quasi turned away sharply, that one lock of fiery red hair hanging in his one good eye. When he spoke, the disappointment and hurt in his soft tenor-like voice was almost too much for Madellaine to bear.</p>
<p>"Madellaine…tell me the truth. Why…why did you kiss me?"</p>
<p>Madellaine looked startled that he would ask such a question. "I…" She desperately wanted to tell him the truth, that she cared for him greatly, maybe…maybe even loved him. now, as he stepped away. Madellaine looked scared, scared of his reaction, but she took a step forward. "I do not want to deny how I feel anymore," she whispered. Her voice was resilient, but also on the brink. "I...I have something I need to say, a-and I need you to listen. Quasi, I...I'm not the person that you think I am." Her voice was breathy and low, barely inaudible. "I've wanted to tell you for a-awhile now..."</p>
<p>He let out a heavy sigh and turned away sharply from her. "Madellaine. Tell me the truth," he growled in a defeated voice.</p>
<p>"I-it's my...my master. Sarousch," she whispered. "Wh-when we arrived in Paris, he...he made me come here, to lure you out."</p>
<p>Quasi blinked owlishly at her, hardly daring to believe her words. He let out a low warning growl from the back of his throat.</p>
<p>"You <em>used</em> me!" he shouted; the last breaking point of his patience reached. Unable to control himself anymore, he grabbed the young blonde by the sleeve of her dress and, with more force than perhaps he thought possible of himself or was necessary, shoved her violently forward, towards the stairwell. "You never cared about me at all!" Quasimodo growled, hating the icy coldness laced in his voice. "<em>Did</em> you? None of it...this wasn't real. You've betrayed me!"</p>
<p>"No, I...that is <em>not</em> true, Quasimodo! I care about you!" Madellaine pleaded, tears streaming down her face.</p>
<p>But Quasimodo had heard enough.</p>
<p>"<strong>GET OUT!</strong>" he shouted, hardly daring to believe the turn the night had taken. "You—you never cared about me, did you?"</p>
<p>Madellaine covered her mouth in shock, and her face twisted and contorted with grief as she blinked back the beginning onset of tears. "N-no, that is <em>not</em> true, and you know that!" she cried, choking back a sob. "<em>Look</em> at me, Quasimodo, I—I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you. You have to...you have to trust me. Please, I..."</p>
<p>She bit her bottom lip and stuck it out in a slight pout, sobbing. "I-it's true that y-yes, I...I <em>did</em> use you," she whispered, hanging her head in shame. "And there were so many times over the last several days that I wanted to tell you, I tried, b-but I just...didn't want to hurt you." When he said nothing, staring at the young blonde coldly, she flinched, and painfully wrung her hands together, her nails digging into the skin of her palms. "And then...I started to feel things for you, a-and I cannot explain it, but I care about you, Quasimodo. More than I do myself." Quasi could hardly believe that he had actually placed her there.</p>
<p>Placed her there because of own monstrous stupidity. Why couldn't he have just left her be, left her alone, admired her from afar! Notre Dame's bell ringer shook his head, turning away from Madellaine. His voice was hard as he looked down at his boots, wishing he could turn back time.</p>
<p>But that small twinge of caution that she harbored still towards him told her to tell him the truth because if she didn't, his wrath would only become ten times worse.</p>
<p>And for that, Quasimodo had every right to be incredibly angry with her. She deserved whatever he was about to say to her. "Madellaine."</p>
<p>His tenor-like voice was gentle, yet there was a firmness there that told her to look up. But she couldn't. After all, she had done to him, she didn't deserve to look upon him ever again. How could she after it?</p>
<p>"Madellaine, I…" His voice trailed off as he lifted his hand to touch her shoulder, but Madellaine quickly stepped away, refusing to meet his gaze.</p>
<p>"So…you wish me to leave your tower," she began slowly, her voice present again, but the woman refused to look at him. "Because I had no right to get so close to you. I overstepped the boundaries. Because you do not think yourself worthy of my affections, given how you look. But don't you know there's more to love than just physical attraction?"</p>
<p>Quasi's eyes widened as he heard the resignation in her voice. She started nodding her head, almost erratically so, and he recognized, perhaps a second too late, just what it was that he had done. He had ostracized this young girl and made Madellaine just like him. An outcast, another freak in Paris. What had he done to her? He had ruined her, and any prospects she might have had for a good life here. What had happened to her tonight, someone had broken her fingers. Because of him. He was dangerous to her.</p>
<p>"No," he said without thinking. "No, Madellaine, that is simply the reality that you and I live in, but it's—" But he did not get a chance to finish speaking.</p>
<p>"No. I understand," Madellaine retorted, lifting her eyes at last and giving him a look of someone who had just woken up, realizing they had been in a dream. "I understand completely what it is that you wish of me. I'll go now."</p>
<p>"Madellaine, no, that's not what I—"</p>
<p>But she was walking away from him. "If this is what you wish, then who am I to argue?" she continued flatly, still averting her gaze. "This is, after all, your tower, not mine. My apologies." She gave a curt little curtsy and abruptly turned away, preparing to leave.</p>
<p>Before she could take so much as a few steps, however, Quasi grabbed her by the shoulders roughly, not wishing to have to resort to such drastic lengths, but she was giving him very little choice in this regard. As he turned her towards him, he noticed the sheen of glistening tears welling in her blue eyes. "Madellaine, you are misunderstanding me. I care for you, more than you can…possibly imagine," he said, his voice soft, desperate. Desperation. Truly?</p>
<p>He had never heard anything like that come out of his mouth before.</p>
<p>"But as you have just said, this cannot continue," said Madellaine, looking up at him with her brows furrowed. She was much calmer now, which was strange. "It is unacceptable. I—I am no longer acceptable up here, with you. I can see that now. I overstepped a line when I dared to get close to you. You are afraid to love back because you're afraid your heart will be broken in the process, but guess what, Quasi? That is love, sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's painful and…and…"</p>
<p>"<strong>NO</strong>, Madellaine!" he roared, finally losing the last vestiges of his patience. Quasi, despite knowing that he really ought not to, took hold of her cheek, tilting it upward and forced her to look at him. Her skin was soft, just as he knew it to be, and this only made his heartache and things much worse for it. "You are better, have you not been listening to a single word I've said?" he demanded incredulously anyways but knowing it was unlikely that she would ever understand him. How could she?</p>
<p>She was born perfect, and he like <em>this</em>. "You can do better than me, and you should," he snapped, feeling the fire-seeds of jealousy well deep within the pits of his stomach at the thought of envisioning this creature before him with another man.</p>
<p>"I have," she snapped, her blue eyes flashing angrily. "Let <em>go</em> of me!"</p>
<p>He ignored this last request. "You deserve better, which is will I will—"</p>
<p>"No, you won't!" Madellaine shouted. "You don't want me here anymore!" Words flew from her mouth that she never thought she'd even think, let alone say out loud, and it was on the person she perhaps cared for the most. She knew instantly from the look in his eyes that they'd hit their mark. In that instant, their friendship shattered into glassy shards.</p>
<p>Nothing would ever be the same again, and they both knew this. They were both panting, Quasi still cupping her cheek. Madellaine's voice was cold, hollow, and he wondered why she was as upset as she was. He figured maybe it was because she had grown used to her life in the cathedral, and the people here, that she had no home, a place she could call that anymore.</p>
<p>Maybe she did not trust him, did not think that he would simply support her without wishing anything of her in return. Quasi knew she had her morals, much stronger than his. But still, he needed her to understand why.</p>
<p>But this was also perhaps the last time he could ever look upon her beautiful face ever again. Never again, at least, not in this manner. Quasi could not stop himself from letting his thumb drift across her cheek, wishing he could make her tears disappear. "Your future is not here. You as good as said it yourself, you do not belong in this place forever," he said stiffly, and then, realizing he sounded too harsh, softened his tone, once they had recovered somewhat. "I will help you, Madellaine. I—I don't know how that is, but I promise to repay you for all the good that you have done for me, to apologize for the hardships you have suffered while living here. I care about your future, just as much as you do, and… if you stay here, with me, you will be labeled. I'm a monster, nothing more, nothing more. My father was right," he growled darkly. "I'll never be anything but a monster, and I was foolish to think otherwise. "I cannot be your friend."</p>
<p><em>There's nothing for you here</em>, is what he wanted to say, but couldn't speak. The tears betrayed them both, falling from her blue eyes and landing on the back of his hand. What was the secret behind them?</p>
<p>Quasi shook his head as he thought about this. He voiced his own thoughts as they came to him.</p>
<p>"Why would you even <em>want</em> to stay here? This solitary life is no life for a woman like you," he said, smiling at Madellaine as she looked sharply away, biting her bottom lip hard enough to cause it to bleed if she weren't careful. "What possible reason could you have, when the whole world is waiting for you out there?" Here, he gestured to the balcony. "I know it is a dangerous one, one not particularly kind to women, I know that, but I believe there is something better waiting for you out there despite this."</p>
<p>Quasi had expected her to reply immediately, but he saw her wince as if Madellaine was only just coming to terms with something deep within herself.</p>
<p>She almost looked guilty, though God only knew why.</p>
<p>When she finally rose to confront him, the bell ringer saw clarity in her haunting eyes, as well as confusion buried there. Her gaze trailed across his face, and he flinched as it finally rested on his eyes, just as he had looked at her many times over. It was as if she no longer cared that he knew that she was looking at him. He had thought of it.</p>
<p>Of course, he joked to himself, knew she felt <em>something</em>, but… if it was to the degree he now saw clearly in her eyes, then something had only just now become apparent to her in that moment like she had woken up from a long sleep or some horrible witch's curse at last.</p>
<p>"When you found me outside that night a—and saved me from the twins, I…" she began, but her voice quickly faded as Quasi let go of her cheek, letting his hand fall to his side. "I didn't know. I hadn't thought that I could…that I could…" she was struggling badly.</p>
<p>It was Quasi's turn to look incredulous now, as he stepped away. Madellaine looked scared, scared of his reaction, but she took a step forward. "I do not want to deny how I feel anymore," she whispered. Her voice was resilient, but also on the brink.</p>
<p>Quasi could hardly believe that he had actually placed her there. Placed her there because of own monstrous stupidity. Why couldn't he have just left her be, left her alone, admired her from afar! Notre Dame's bell ringer shook his head, turning away from Madellaine. His voice was hard as he looked down at his boots, wishing he could turn back time.</p>
<p>"You only feel this way because you are <em>confused</em>," he said coldly. He dared not look back, for if he had, he would have seen her white face. Madellaine was far too pale, her knuckles white with suppressed rage, her shoulders shaking from the effort to restrain herself from lashing out.</p>
<p>"How <em>dare</em> you speak to me like that? Take that back, right now! So, I am confused but you are not?" Madellaine retorted, frustration rising again. "I am not some idiot peasant girl with no understanding as to her own feelings! It's clear this had nothing to do with me or my future here in the church," she snarled. "You simply don't wish to confront the fact that something is there, something is happening between us, something you cannot even begin to contemplate because of who you are, what I am. Because you were born like that, and I like this," she snarled, gesturing to herself and then to his wild red hair and contusion over his eye. "Your deformities, Quasi, are not as bad as you make them out to be. Why can you not see that you are a handsome man with a beautiful smile, and you've caught my attention? Are you blind?" When he did not answer, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "No, not blind. Just <em>stupid</em>."</p>
<p>This was what she thought of him, really thought of him. Quasi closed his eyes, letting a ragged breath escape from his mouth, exposing his feelings to Madellaine at long last.</p>
<p>Quasi heard her timid footsteps as she approached him from behind, and he could feel the heat radiating off her body, reaching out to him, trying again.</p>
<p>Madellaine was looking at him as though she had just had some sort of epiphany, for her blue eyes were growing wide and round with shock as she realized something.</p>
<p>"I see it now. You're <em>ashamed</em>," she said, her voice as hard now as his. "You are ashamed of me. That is what this is, though you don't wish to admit this." Quasi felt his eyes fly open and he pulled himself towards her and cleared his throat before turning to look at Madellaine again.</p>
<p>He took a moment to collect his thoughts before replying to her one-time true statement. It was true. Though she had one crucial part wrong.</p>
<p>He was not ashamed of her, but of himself. He had foolishly allowed this to happen, to think that for an instant, that he might have…that he could have had a future with this young beautiful woman. But Frollo, in the end, had been right.</p>
<p>There was no denying what he was. He was a <em>monster</em>, and he would <em>always</em> be one, and he could not—<em>would</em> not—subject Madellaine to that same fate, which is what she would become if she stayed with him. The villagers would label her a freak, an outcast, a witch for daring to live with this monster.</p>
<p>He could not allow this. "You're wrong, Madellaine," he said quietly, as he felt himself smile sadly, though he did not turn to look at her. "The creature you met, the one who only saw an angelic girl in front of him, he might have thought that, once. But I'm not doing this to you because of what I think. I don't even blame you for thinking such thoughts of me."</p>
<p>"Why?" she asked, and the heartbreak in her voice was entirely too much.</p>
<p>"Madellaine, if you stay here with me, then I…" Quasi let his sentence drop, lifting his gloved hand again as he winced and flexed his fingers, touching her face again, despite the anger displayed here, and he was surprised in that she did not turn away from him like he expected her to do. He took a chance and stepped forward so he hoped she would understand, see what he was sure was displayed so clearly on his face now.</p>
<p>"I know what will happen if you stay," Quasi whispered as he grimaced, hating how desperate his voice sounded. "You and I both know you could never truly…I could never be with you as a…"</p>
<p><em>Suitor</em>, his conscience finished. By God, he couldn't say it. It did not need saying, yet Madellaine's eyes lifted abruptly, brightly shining with shock. Clearly, she had not expected him to think that far. But he had.</p>
<p>Oh, god, he had. A million times over, but it couldn't be.</p>
<p>Taking hold of her face now with both hands, Quasi took the last few moments he had in her company to try and memorize every little detail of her face, the slight of her mouth, that little wisp of blonde hair which never failed to fall on her forehead. If ever there was a time where he wanted to kiss her, this was it. He almost laughed, a bitter, cold laugh at himself. As if he had not wanted to this entire time, during their entire friendship and acquaintance. "I will not do that to you," Quasi continued.</p>
<p>"You deserve so much better. You deserve more than to be stuck here, and that is what will happen if you stay. I am disgraced, nothing more than a monster. I am no man. I will not drag you through the mud as well, my friend. I won't do it, Madellaine. I won't." Even if you hate me for it, he thought, though he dared not speak of it.</p>
<p>Madellaine looked as if she wanted to protest, but then she closed her mouth, realizing, Quasi hoped, just as he had to, that he was right in this regard, as much as he did not want to be. Quasi had to fight very hard to relinquish his grip of her, to let go of this otherworldly creature, but he did. He let his hands slip from her cheeks, landing helplessly at his sides. There was a horrible smothering sense of inevitability in the air, the only conclusion possible, really, and Quasimodo took a deep breath, readying himself to turn away.</p>
<p>But then Madellaine spoke, shattering the silence.</p>
<p>"It is clear to me that you do not understand, and I don't know if you ever will, Quasimodo." Her tone was clipped and hard, and her voice had seemed to come out of nowhere, and when Quasi lifted his head to look up at her, he saw that her tears were now gone, and she looked almost like she had done when she'd entered his tower.</p>
<p>"Tell me what it is I don't understand then," he snapped flatly.</p>
<p>"You do not understand at all. It's clear. My feelings on the matter hold no bearing to you. You have made up your mind, Quasi, and I cannot deter you from your decision. Not only do you not understand me, but you don't understand yourself." Her words were strange, they sounded foreign to him, and she was talking now from some other place, someplace where he could not find her. "You are wrong, Quasi, when it comes to what you think is of value in this life. It is time that you started seeing yourself as a man. You are no monster, your master and everyone else in this city was wrong, whatever he said to you when you were growing up, he was wrong," Madellaine spoke up quietly. "I deserve to decide my own fate, as you have said throughout this conversation. You wish me to leave from this tower. You do not respect me, not truly. I see it now."</p>
<p>He did not see Madellaine leave. He turned away once she said her piece.</p>
<p>It was all he would have of her. Her words. But just before the curtain to his tower's entryway closed, Quasi heard her speak to him again. It was her final closing statement, which left him unable to find any sort of closure, only leaving him with further torment and anguish in his weak heart.</p>
<p>"You are the kindest man I have met in all my life," she said, though there was no warmth left in her voice. "I do not wish to see you hurt like everyone else I have known. Would you allow me to, I can help protect you, be a friend to you, and maybe…" Here Madellaine hesitated and bit her lip, fighting back her urge to break down and blinking back briny tears. "Maybe I could have even loved you if you would have allowed it, but I can see now that you do not want that. You wish me to leave your tower, so I will go. Don't try to help me. You owe me nothing." It had taken him a good minute or two to realize what she had said, for she had spoken so softly and without any kind of feeling in her voice at all.</p>
<p>As he blinked, her words finally registering, he bounded towards the foot of his tower's stairwell, only to find Sister Maria waiting for him at the top step. "Where is she?" he shouted, not caring what the nun must think of him.</p>
<p>"Who?" Maria retorted, looking quite surprised at his little outburst.</p>
<p>"Madellaine!" he yelled, and silently fumed as he turned away from her.</p>
<p>"Oh," said Maria, appearing alarmingly calm. "Yes, well, she left, son. Oh, don't worry," she added, noticing the look of dread creeping onto his face. "The girl didn't go very far. She's stationed in the downstairs cloister, just…"</p>
<p>"In the…downstairs…" So, she hadn't left his tower after all, then. Sneaky. Quasi turned away from Maria, mumbling a thank you under his breath as she gingerly set down a steaming mug of herbal tea and bread for him, murmuring to herself and occasionally, shooting Quasi a look.</p>
<p>"I could hear the whole thing from downstairs," she snapped, and Quasi was surprised at the coldness in the nun's usually bright, jovial tone.</p>
<p>"Say something," Quasi urged, suddenly feeling desperate, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat as Maria raised a finger, effectively shushing him.</p>
<p>Her blue eyes were glacier cold as she glowered at him, making him feel incredibly uncomfortable. "You only feel this way because you are confused." Her words were poisonous and felt very much like a stab to his heart as she reflected his own statement and threw it back in his face, feeling as though he'd been doused in ice water.</p>
<p>Quasi's heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he wordlessly pulled up a chair and forced Maria to sit down. If there was anyone that could help him out of this, it was her. "Now—now that was a misunderstanding," he fumbled.</p>
<p>"This is me being kind, boy," she admonished, tossing her blue hair over her shoulders and putting her feet up on his table as she leaned back in her chair, much to the bell ringer's disgust at seeing her feet on his work table. But, thankfully, he chose to ignore it. "You made yourself look bad, Quasi," Sister Maria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Here, give me, that," she snapped, pointing towards the bowl of nuts on the table. "Pass me a nut."</p>
<p>He did so and waited for her to get settled as she took a handful of nuts and cracked them open. "Had I known you were that bad with women, I would have changed our entire strategy to something where you didn't talk," she snorted, rolling her eyes at the incredulous look of disbelief in his eyes.</p>
<p>"Maria—" he started to say, but she held up a hand and cut him off.</p>
<p>"I'm not going to lie to you. This is a tragedy. You said you had a connection!" she protested, slamming the bowl of nuts down on the table.</p>
<p>"We—we did, we—I—I do," he stammered.</p>
<p>"No! No more talking. You've said quite enough for today. You've got one more chance. Tomorrow, when she's had time to cool off."</p>
<p>"What good is that going to do?" Quasi snarled, not in the mood for this.</p>
<p>"I need you to go…sit in that corner and marinate over what you've done to that girl, good god, boy, this is <em>awful</em>. And I'm just going to lay here, rest my eyes and…try to shake off this afternoon," Maria grumbled darkly, leaning back against her chair, folding her hands across her stomach, closing her eyes. Quasi fell silent as Maria prattled on something about manners, and he knew as he looked out at the balcony of the Rose Window balcony, that Madellaine would never return to his tower. He would make sure of that.</p>
<p>Today had spelled the end of everything. This was simply how it was meant to go, and that was that, then. Her beautiful features invaded his mind as he sat in the chair across from Maria, but unlike many times before, Quasimodo didn't fight it this time, letting her tease as she smiled, but this time, it was a heartbroken smile. Madellaine did not say it in so many words. She thought he didn't know. Of course, he knew, he could see it in her eyes.</p>
<p>He would be damned if he did not at least try to help her in some small way, after everything... He would get his way, at least concerning that.</p>
<p>He wouldn't take her refusal for an answer. All this time, he'd been wondering how he felt about her, but he had not stopped to seriously consider the notion that… That. Quasimodo shook his head violently to rid himself of these unhelpful thoughts following Maria's departure, once she'd realized he wasn't going to listen to her.</p>
<p>Maybe Madellaine had thought she cared for him. But she only knew him as he was mostly after everything that had happened. If she knew what he was truly like, back before she came to the cathedral, then…then…</p>
<p>She could not love that monster, and yes, he had discovered he wasn't all he thought he was, but he was still very much that creature in the shadows. Looking back at his past conduct, he could see no reason why she would care about a monster, a wretch like him. Regardless, it didn't matter anymore.</p>
<p>The young woman deserved better than him, even if she didn't know it yet, she would soon, of this Quasi was certain. It was simply another reason to toss on the already ominous mountain of reasons for why she was better off.</p>
<p>By severing all acquaintance with him, she could at least have some semblance of a normal life, and settle down with a man who was handsome, one who could provide for her, give her a normal life in the sunlight she craved.</p>
<p>Someone who was not him, for what could a monster as he offer? A soft thumping sound reached his eardrums and he stifled a low groan, as the noise betrayed the presence of another person in the north bell tower loft. Opening his bleary eyes,</p>
<p>Quasi turned his head lazily to see Victor, Hugo, and Laverne, approaching him gingerly with as much caution as possible.</p>
<p>"Why do you look so disheveled, Quasi?" Laverne asked, her voice tired, taking in his ginger hair, which he'd developed the bad habit of repeatedly running his fingers through it in anguish, and she could tell it bothered him.</p>
<p>The dark circles too under his eyes should have been obvious to them.</p>
<p>"I…had a little incident, guys," Quasi said, giving them all a slight smile.</p>
<p>"Uh-huh," murmured Hugo, not bothering to ask what had really happened. It was obvious. "You wanna talk about it, kid? We heard it."</p>
<p>Damn. He gritted his teeth and locked his jaw. "No, not really," he snapped, feeling that unfamiliar coldness return to his normally kind voice. He almost did not recognize himself when he spoke like this. He hated it.</p>
<p>Quasi was starting to regret this, choosing to confide in the gargoyles like this, but currently, what other choice did he have?</p>
<p>Esmeralda wasn't back yet. He motioned with a wave of his arm for the three to follow him out onto the balcony, and he waited patiently for the three stone gargoyles to get settled. He sat perched high atop one of the ledges, at a safe distance from them, and he soon became painfully aware of the silence between them.</p>
<p>Their silhouettes as the sun began to set cast ghastly shadows onto the stone floor of the balcony terrace. They fell silent, waiting for Quasi to speak.</p>
<p>"I…I've come to a conclusion now that…Madellaine and I…talked," he finished lamely, visibly cringing as he refused to meet their gazes, though the looks of immense disappointment on their stone grotesque faces should have been more than enough for him to know that they too were displeased. "This issue has been toying away in my mind for quite some time now, and it has to be resolved, and the sooner the better so we all can move on with our lives."</p>
<p>The gargoyles said nothing, which the bell ringer found more than a little disconcerting, but nevertheless, he continued with his announcement to them.</p>
<p>"I have decided it is best for Madellaine to leave the tower," he said stiffly. "To leave...me."</p>
<p>What proceeded to happen then, Quasi could not have possibly foreseen. The balcony literally erupted as the three gargoyles started to exclaim all at once in protest. Hugo was suddenly up on his claws, pacing as best he could, as Victor began to counter-act him, seemingly trying to get him to shut up, while Laverne had started shouting right at poor Quasi but came across as entirely incoherent due to all of the noise that was going on right now. He could take no more of this, and the word was out before he could stop himself.</p>
<p>"<strong>QUIET</strong>!" he bellowed as he curled his gloved hand into a fist and punched the stone wall behind him. He hissed in pain as he had now no doubt sprained some muscle, but he powered through the worst of the throbbing pain and did his best to ignore it. "What has gotten into you? You're behaving like a pack of animals!" he shouted, glaring at all three. The three must-have begun to feel something resembling remorse or a sense of embarrassment, for Victor, Hugo, and Laverne quieted down.</p>
<p>"Now, as I was saying before you all went off like a pack of hyenas," he continued darkly but with an incredulous look on his face, "I have decided it best that she leave. She cannot stay here in the tower with me any longer."</p>
<p>"Quasi, I'm sorry this happened to you," Laverne warbled uncertainly, hopping up on the ledge beside him to give him a ginger pat on his shoulder.</p>
<p>"Thanks," he grumbled darkly, irritably pushing her arm away. He let out a haggard sigh and a cynical chuckle escaped his lips. "I—I was such a fool to imagine believing…I'm not mad anymore. Just hurt, I guess. She can't…I…"</p>
<p>Victor furrowed his stone brows into a frown, or as close as he could come to when he was alive and sentient. "Don't pity yourself. Pick yourself back up and get back out there! The Barreau girl is a <em>good</em> woman, boy, and we taught you better than this," he admonished, feeling his own temper swell.</p>
<p>"And if she means <em>anything</em> to you, well, she looked awful lonely…" Hugo added slyly, a little grin on his features despite the boy's grim declaration.</p>
<p>"Besides," interjected Laverne, immediately sensing danger as Quasi's eyes darkened to an almost cerulean hue the longer he dwelled in his anger.</p>
<p>"What?" snapped Quasi harshly, turning to look at the female statue.</p>
<p>"Is the girl not better off here in the cathedral? I know of Paris, and it is full of the most narrow-minded people imaginable. The child has no money, where on earth would you have her stay then, if not in the cathedral walls?"</p>
<p>Victor could not resist adding in his two cents. "She will have no prospects in the city, given what she is, and her potential will be squandered. She's a thie—" But the scholarly gargoyle's voice trailed off and he swallowed nervously as he met the bell ringer's gaze. Victor mumbled something incoherent and fidgeted with his claw's nails, pretending not to notice his piercing hard stare.</p>
<p>"You <em>know</em> something about her, Vic, don't you? And you, Hugo?"</p>
<p>"I…it's not our business to tell!" Victor blurted out, gritting his teeth and flexing his wings. "I—I swear, we overheard Sister Maria and Sister Rosemary talking to her!"</p>
<p>Quasi sighed, closing his eyes and resting his chin in his hands. He was getting a splitting headache and the revelation that his guardians knew something about Madellaine that he did not, and this troubled him greatly.</p>
<p>Quasi knew he would have to be open with his companions, in order for them to understand the decisions he had made or was thinking of making.</p>
<p>Not waiting around to hear what his guardians thought, he bid them a gruff farewell and decided instead to seek out the two people who he knew could help him. Phoebus and Esmeralda.</p>
<p>Surely, they would know how to help.</p>
<p>The sun was making its way across the sky and turning a gentler, warmer yellow as it began its descent. Walking through the twisted path that led to the middle, the bell ringer remained deep in thought as he kept going, not caring where his feet led him, as long as he went somewhere, away from the church. And then, he knew it.</p>
<p>There had been hope for him before. Just a tiny flicker against the wind. And now, there was nothing left. At that moment she had a choice of kindness or cruelty; it took no time at all for Madellaine to decide. She had seen that dying ember and brought the winds to a cold howl. How was her thinking so different from Quasi's own, so foreign?</p>
<p>How was it that she saw the suffering and choose to make it all the worse? He didn't know. But it did not matter, because they could never truly be together in that way. Not in the way that he wanted. As he walked, thinking about where he wanted to go, he paused.</p>
<p>He could take a left and head towards the Seine, or he could go right and go all the way to the edge of the city, whereabouts he would come across the old graveyard of the Court of Miracles.</p>
<p>At that last thought, a bitter sneer formed on his lips before Quasi could stop it. He would need a miracle if he ever hoped to improve the mess of his life and apologize to Madellaine for the horrible things he had said to her. And then. He knew.</p>
<p>He knew where he wanted to go.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter Twenty-Two</strong>
  </p>
  <p>The rest of Quasi's world had become an unimportant blur that was banished far into the recesses of his mind as the cool summer breeze whipped through his hair, tousling his red wavy ginger hair just slightly. He had dismissed Madellaine, rejected her coldly, and made her see that she was not good for him, but something foreign and unfamiliar had stirred within the confines of his chest, overtaking his thinking until he was a mess.</p>
  <p>He began to have inappropriate thoughts of his friend, wondering if it would be appropriate to find her and apologize to her.</p>
  <p>The shadow of the monster that he always knew lurked within danced across his face, stirring something deep within that he had always tried to repress, horrible darkness. He…<em>wanted</em> her. He had never wanted women…until now. Quasi swallowed hard past the lump forming his throat as he aimlessly wandered the streets of Paris, cloaked in a gray cape. He needed to clear his mind, and it was regrettably taking much longer than he thought.</p>
  <p>As Quasimodo continued having these wild and highly inappropriate thoughts of the young circus performer, he knew it was his inner demon speaking, threatening to come loose at long last after laying dormant. His lip curled and his nostrils flared, and he released a low, guttural growl at the back of his throat at the thought of their fight. Why, oh why hadn't he been able to control his temper? What he had said to her lingered in his mind, taunting him.</p>
  <p><em>"</em> <em>You only feel this way because you are confused." </em></p>
  <p>He curled his gloved hand into a fist at his side and slumped near the wall of the bakery, not wanting yet to return to the church when a shadow caught his eye.</p>
  <p>"Fine mess. Now she <em>hates</em> you, and you <em>deserve</em> this. She'll never see me as anything but a monster..." Blearily, blinking back briny tears, he glanced up, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw who it was. "Phoebus. E-Esmeralda, wh-what are you doing here?" he managed to gasp out, surprised at how hoarse he was.</p>
  <p>"Following <em>you</em>, of course," Esmeralda answered tersely. "We saw the girl pass by our caravan. She looked…quite upset. What's going on?"</p>
  <p>He hesitated, biting his bottom lip. He wasn't sure he was ready to divulge the details of what happened, but then again, they were his friends. Maybe they could help him undo this horrible mess he started.</p>
  <p>"I…yelled at her," he answered lamely, lowering his voice so that he was barely audible over the harsh gust of wind. "I—it's my fault, guys. But...you were right, Phoebus." The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. "She...she was using me. She-she never cared about me." Still, even as he spoke the words that did not stop the insurmountable ache welling within his chest. He still wanted her, so badly enough that it ached!</p>
  <p>"Get a hold of yourself," he whisper-hissed through clenched teeth, baring his canines and striking the brick wall of the baker's shop with his curled fist, letting out a horrible yell of anguish that made the hair on the back of Phoebus and Esmeralda's neck stand straight up.</p>
  <p><em>Madellaine is not yours, and she will never be yours. Get that through your head</em>. His mind felt as if lead were coursing through his veins instead of blood. He could not bear to look in the mirror across the way at his reflection, for fear of what he might find there. The shadow of the monster upon his features.</p>
  <p>If he made eye contact with his reflection, Quasi thought he might vomit. Disgust.</p>
  <p>Total disgust with himself, at who he was, what he represented.</p>
  <p>These thoughts he was having of the young blonde with the brilliant blue eyes and gorgeous yellow hair were incredibly inappropriate and altogether wrong, but oh, God, he couldn't seem to get enough of what had just happened here tonight. Quasi's shoulders were slumped, and his eyes cast downward in a mournful gaze. His mouth was set in a semi-pout as he mulled over thoughts of the young woman who had seemingly dropped into his life so unexpectedly. Stunned.</p>
  <p>There was no other word that would adequately describe the whirlwind vortex of emotions that was going through Quasi's head long after the young woman—had fled his tear in a state of near hysterics, crying silently. He couldn't remember the last time he had talked so much. She had seemed to show a genuine interest in his life, with no apprehension or fear towards how he looked, a—and when she had <em>kissed</em> him... His thoughts were plagued by everything the young woman had said.</p>
  <p>Visions of her face still danced in his mind, and he knew that this impending partnership was leading him down a very dangerous path indeed. Befriending her, and dare he even has an inkling of hope that were it to ever progress beyond friendship, well, that was something he couldn't allow.</p>
  <p>For to come to her was forbidden, yet to stay away from her, even that thought along made his heartache just a twinge.</p>
  <p>There was something about Madellaine that made him feel so young inside, but not in a childish way. The blonde circus performer woke the pure side of Quasi, the best side, the facets of himself that only required love to be healthy and whole. Should he ever be fortunate enough to have an eternity with this woman, he would sink into serenity, just content to be close to the woman with the beautiful golden pixie cut and bright blue eyes that he could lose himself in if she would let him.</p>
  <p>Their energy together, as proven to Quasi several times over the course of a few evenings spent in each other's company, getting to know each other better, laughing at each other's jokes, vibrated in such a unique way, he'd never developed a connection quite like this with another. <em>There's no doubt about it</em>, his conscience taunted him. <em>You're smitten</em>. "No, no, no, that's insane!" he snapped, airily brushing away the voices inside his head with a wave of his hand. But still, he could not seem to stop these horrible, intrusive thoughts. Madellaine's serene blue, haunting eyes drenched his memory, how she had looked at him through the night.</p>
  <p>Quasi knew that developing a relationship with this woman would only break him, but even now, the idea was insane, but he wanted it more than anything, if she would ever think of him in those terms. Quasi remained locked in his own self-pity, the kind that only brought him sorrow, for he had temporarily allowed his heart to stray where it should not, and now his mind was forced to pull it back to within confines in which he permitted it to roam, and he could not—would not—think of her that way.</p>
  <p>Her words rocked his mind, leaving it moving in forwarding ways, ways he'd become unaccustomed to these many years of living in solitude. She was nothing more than an echo now, but one with the power to tear down the walls he'd built high and deep around his heart, refusing to let anyone see him.</p>
  <p>Her smile along burnished Quasi's soul into a beauty it could never have achieved on its own. All evening, whenever she had glanced his way with those haunting blue eyes of hers, he would silently inhale a breath so sharp that it physically hurt him, hoping and praying her thoughts about him were good. A crush was nothing more than a lust for someone. But that did not change anything in Quasi's mind. Madellaine was still in his mind, even three hours after they had so horribly fought.</p>
  <p>He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. When their eyes locked this evening, hers burned his like he'd been staring at the sun for entirely too long. Quasi knew that she was his crush, but she would never be his. Ever.</p>
  <p><em>You're falling in love with her</em>, his voice taunted him again, like clockwork. <em>Hard. You wouldn't have asked her if you could court her otherwise, and now look what you've done. She hates you</em>.</p>
  <p>He let out a heavy sigh, thumping his hand to his forehead and dragging it down the side of his face in anguish, running a hand through his red hair.</p>
  <p>Though he wanted to befriend his new friend, to want her in that way, he would most likely have to walk away. And now he had. For there was no way Madellaine would want to speak to him again, not after the horrible things he had said to her in order to drive her away from him.</p>
  <p>It was what was best for her, after all. <em>Safer</em>.</p>
  <p>In this world, this place where his kind was shunned, emotions for a woman this strong were considered suspicious, and he had other priorities right now to think about than the health of his heart and mind, and wondering what a young woman thought of him. If that wasn't conflicted, then Quasi did not know what was.</p>
  <p>"Oh, God, what have I done to her? This is all my fault," he moaned, burying his face in his hands.</p>
  <p>It was said that once you had mastered being alone, you were ready for the company of others. That did not make it easy for Quasi, though. When everyone else's life journey was separated from his own, it wasn't something most could take. He wanted what most in this life took for granted—his own life, free from prejudices of his condition, someone to care for, to know the simple joys of being loved and his feelings reciprocated. But he would never have it, not with his condition.</p>
  <p>The darkness swirled around his tense, terse form as he sat rigidly against the wall of the shop, tendrils of inkling bleak reminders of his life of permanent solitude. The silence echoed in Quasi's ears was the constant noise that never silenced. But now, the void had been slowly filled with a cold, howling storm of fear that refused to ever let up. He was completely and utterly alone in his mind, body, soul, and most of all, entirely alone in a world that was harsh and cruel.</p>
  <p>"What are you still doing up, Quasi?" Esmeralda asked cautiously, and it did not escape Quasi's attention the developing purple bags underneath Esmeralda's eyes, which earned her a frown from Quasi in her general direction. It became clear to him that she had not received a full night's rest in perhaps days, or months.</p>
  <p>"Thinking," came his curt answer,</p>
  <p>Esmeralda and Phoebus exchanged a slightly knowing little smirk amongst themselves. Quasi noticed the gesture and furrowed his brow into a frown. "We heard the two of you talking almost all night last night at the festival," added Phoebus, a slightly mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he glanced at his wife. "I hope that you can develop a relationship with this girl. With Madellaine. You deserve it."</p>
  <p>Quasi felt himself grow suddenly inexplicably defensive. "Yeah," he answered, thinking that it would do him no good here to lie to the two.</p>
  <p>Esmeralda, not buying it for an instant, quirked her brow his way. "Oh, look at that, Phoebus, I think this is the first time we've made him jealous. You sure? Because it sure didn't look like that kind of conversation to me, Quasi. Don't you lie to us! You like this girl, admit it. Why can't you let yourself feel that?"</p>
  <p>He froze, not having anticipated that Esmeralda would call him out on it so fast. "She—no, Esmeralda, that's—that's ridiculous," he managed, fumbling over his words and staring at Esmeralda's pink headscarf and gold hoop earrings, if only for the distraction so he wouldn't have to avoid their piercing gazes. "I—"</p>
  <p>"Have yourself quite the partner," finished Phoebus sardonically, chuckling a little at how pink and flushed Quasi's face was becoming. "We've said it all along, Quasi, that you're taking a ridiculous stance on your love life. Or lack thereof, I guess we should say," he added, tapping his chin thoughtfully.</p>
  <p>"I shouldn't even be allowed to marry, let alone <em>talk to her</em>!" he shouted, slamming his fist down behind him, feeling his wrist practically shatter as the skin of his knuckles connected with the brick, in a moment of anger, startling the couple. It was rare for him to lose his temper like this. "Madellaine's already in enough danger as it is. I will not put her life in danger anymore. I <em>won't</em>."</p>
  <p>"No one said anything about…<em>that</em>," managed Esmeralda at last, her tanned face darker than usual as a blush crept its way onto her cheeks. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders for warmth and leaned forward, folding her fingers neatly together and fixing Quasi with a cold, hard stare, one bereft of warmth and love. Most unusual.</p>
  <p>"Then why bring up Madellaine at three o'clock in the morning?" Quasi snapped, hating the harsh, almost dog-like bark to his voice, how angry he was. It was Esmeralda who came to the rescue, as always.</p>
  <p>"We saw the way she looked at you. The girl couldn't keep her eyes off you all throughout the festival last night, and you're more so the fool if you couldn't see it."</p>
  <p>Quasi, forever a peace advocate, wanted nothing more at the moment to wipe that smug little smirk off Esmeralda's face with an angry remark, but he bit his tongue and resisted the very urge. "We're just <em>friends</em>," he emphasized heavily, averting their gaze. "N-nothing more, a-and nothing less. She...how could I possibly tell her the truth about how I feel? What would she say?" he groaned, turning away, folding his arms across his chest and sulking.</p>
  <p>"But she <em>likes</em> you," added Phoebus with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "She kissed you, didn't she?"</p>
  <p>Quasi shot Phoebus a dark look, begrudgingly nodding. "<em>What</em>?" he demanded, his voice terse and his posture rigid. His normally kind blue eyes narrowed until they were naught but slits.</p>
  <p>Phoebus chuckled. "You like her, don't try to deny it. You've always been a terrible liar, my friend, so don't start now," he laughed, unable to keep his happiness to himself.</p>
  <p>"I…don't…that's—that's completely beside the point!" Quasi snapped, cringing and hating that he was becoming more flustered by the second. "I can assure both of you that there is <em>nothing</em> romantic between us."</p>
  <p>Lies. He was lying through his teeth to both of them, and they knew it. Though after their argument who he was sure that the entire city had now probably heard, given how sound traveled throughout his tower, he wouldn't be surprised if Madellaine wanted nothing further to do with him.</p>
  <p>"Why not?" challenged Esmeralda hotly, the corners of her mouth twitching as she fought back a kind smile. "You want to know what I think?" she asked. Quasi didn't, but couldn't very well say that, so he resorted to nodding. "I believe that each of us deserves a chance at love. And I know, it's going to sound silly, but there is someone out there for everyone, and we believe in love. How could we not?" Esmeralda added, instinctively reaching for her husband's hand as it settled over top Phoebus's. Quasi noticed and felt his heartstrings tug.</p>
  <p>"Where are you going with this, Esmeralda? I presume your story has a point, doesn't it? Get on with it, then," snapped Quasi moodily, letting out a sigh.</p>
  <p>Esmeralda offered Quasi a small, wry, sad little smile. "Now I know some say there's no such thing as true love, that it all ends in heartbreak and pain, but I think that's the beauty of it. To have something so perfect for such a short while, and then for it to disappear into nothing. It's an endless loop, never-ending, always on the move. You never know where it will take you. That's the thing about love, it's so beautiful and mysterious and magical. I believe we all deserve a chance at love because we all deserve something magical. You found. You're ready, my friend. You have to tell her how you feel and make amends before it's too late."</p>
  <p>Phoebus noticed Quasi's growing discomfort and was quick to add in his two cents. "All we're saying is, that we do not think anything less of you because of your…looks. You are no monster, you are not a beast, Quasi, you are a man, and it's time you started seeing yourself as such. You are perfectly capable of having the things you've told us in past times that you've wanted: a family, a wife, a place to call home. You're the only one standing in your way telling yourself you can't." With a groan as he rose from the ground from where he had knelt to look their friend in the eye, he motioned for his wife to join him, sensing the aching heartbreak in the much younger man's eyes.</p>
  <p>"Just think about it. You should apologize to the girl. She's done nothing to you, and this might be your one shot at happiness, Quasi."</p>
  <p>Quasi didn't bother to correct her as they headed back home.</p>
  <p>He ached when he saw her smile. He wanted it to be directed towards him. For him. Because of <em>him</em>.</p>
  <p>He wanted to be the one to bring Madellaine joy, to be the source of those lit eyes that had bewitched him and her brilliant dimpled smile that made his heart pound against its chest so hard it was like a rock rattling in a box. He'd watched her throughout the course of a single evening bring so much happiness to others.</p>
  <p>She was a woman who knew how to find beauty in others, even perhaps, especially, when that person could not see it in themselves. Madellaine tried so hard to do well. She worked hard. She wanted to fly, and now she was soaring, but that did not stop his feelings. He was afraid for her, what would become of her because she had dared to get close to him and befriend him and…she had <em>kissed</em> him. Several times now, as a matter of fact, and now…<em>this</em>.</p>
  <p>He was so afraid that she would crash, and that Quasi would have to watch it happen to her. He ached to think there would be no way for him to help her if she did. Quasi had been content to watch her tonight. It became almost an immediate source of guilt for him and he hated it.</p>
  <p>If he had no place in her life, then why did he want to be near her so much? If she noticed, Quasi was scared of what Madellaine Barreau thought of him. He had never been heartbroken before, preferring to keep women at arm's length.</p>
  <p>Not because he didn't want a relationship, but because he was a danger to society. For that, sometimes he was glad he knew that she would not. They could never be together, not in the way he truly wanted. That was probably a good thing, he mused bitterly, just as another gust of wind tousled his ginger hair in a cold burst of wind.</p>
  <p>He would no doubt be seeing her again, as long as she remained within the cathedral walls, and he would have to face her again before too long, perhaps over breakfast tomorrow. When they met again tomorrow over breakfast when they spoke; what would she think of him? That's what scared him the most, he knew it. For just a split second, he was wondering if it was better that they do not meet at all, that she leaves.</p>
  <p>Maybe it would be better for Madellaine if he let her fade away from his life, back out of it as she had never been there.</p>
  <p>But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that he could not do such a foolish thing. He couldn't let go. Quasi wanted to be there, next to her, to hold her hand, to feel the soft, smooth skin of her palm entwined with his own. To dry her tears if ever she cried. To take the pain and anger he knew that she hid so well from others.</p>
  <p>Yet, here he sat, not moving a muscle, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. To develop an unattainable desire was not wise, this he knew.</p>
  <p>He knew it the minute he'd helped her off the floor and saved her life from those wretched conjoined twins, this was a dangerous game he was playing, and it would be better for both parties if he quit it and left the girl alone in peace. But the ache wouldn't fade, and thoughts of her refused to leave his mind. Like it or not, as he stayed up late into the early hours of the morning ruminating over the swirling vortex of confused emotions and thoughts running through his mind, he knew that he was smitten with the blonde circus performer.</p>
  <p><em>God help me</em>, he thought, anguished.</p>
  <p>But as usual, no one listened.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>25</strong>
</p><p>Madellaine did not know why she had come here to this place, but the tavern near the edge of the riverbank of the River Seine had seemed like the quietest place, even despite the noise nearby of the tavern customers to sort through her thoughts. It was hard for the young woman to believe that an entire month had passed since her and Quasimodo's argument, of which now, thanks to Sister Maria and Sister Rosemary's gossiping ways, she was quite certain the whole city of Paris knew about what had happened between them.</p><p>The night he had kicked her out of his tower for good, she'd had nowhere to go, for she did not want to be near him. Not when it hurt just to look into his eyes. </p><p>The first few times she had tried to venture up to his tower with food as a peace offering of sorts, Quasimodo had completely ignored her, and refused to look at her at all.</p><p>She was just grateful that Monsieur Clopin had offered her a place within his Court of Miracles. It wasn't much, what he and his people had to offer, but given Sarousch had kicked her out of the circus officially for failing to procure Notre Dame's bell ringer within his encampment, she supposed it was better than starving on the streets and succumbing to illness.</p><p>Anger boiled deep in Madellaine's blood, as hot as lava, though days had already passed and the two had barely spoken to each other.</p><p>The night they had fought, he had spoken of torment.</p><p>Well, now <em>he</em> was <em>hers</em>.</p><p>"You did not care for me the way that I hoped you would, Quasi," she whispered, feeling the beginnings of hot tears begin to sting and blur her vision as they threatened to spill over if she could not get herself under control. It was almost too much for her to handle at times. The pressure of the anger she felt within her felt like at times it would force her to say things she didn't mean, and she felt like she lashed out more in anger these days.</p><p>The pain he had caused her was almost too much for her to live with, and what she wanted more than anything, was just something to listen to her, to tell her that everything would be all right for her in the end...</p><p>So, maybe that was why she had come here, to get away before she said things to her friends, to Esmeralda and Phoebus, who were supportive enough in her endeavors, supporting her decision to stay with Clopin and his people in the new Court of Miracles, on the other end of the city in a catacomb that had, to the outside viewer, long been since sealed off, more towards Montfaucon near the gibbet where the dead were buried. A condemned place, a warning to outsiders to stay away.</p><p>Madellaine didn't even care if Sarousch was after her anymore, for he would never find her or Clopin's court as long as she was very careful. She understood as long as she lingered in the cathedral, close to <em>him</em>, that she could really hurt people. And she didn't want that. So, she escaped. She ran away from her friends, from…<em>him</em>. Madellaine tilted her head back and allowed the darkness of the ale to swallow her whole for a little while, the burning taste of the bitter drink of ale burning her throat as it went down her throat with great ease.</p><p>The serving girl came by with a fresh bout of ale for her.</p><p>"More," commanded Madellaine, slamming the now empty tankard down onto the table. She winced at realizing how harsh her voice sounded. "<em>Please</em>," she added quickly, noticing the dark look the serving girl shot her. "Thanks," she mumbled, tracing a swirl of patterns from the condensation that beaded on the outside of the cup.</p><p>Madellaine found that the more she drank to ease the pain of her and Quasi's fight, she slowly emerged from the anger she possessed. Having the anger dissipate in her felt nice, and she felt calmer than she had before.</p><p>The young blonde circus performer wanted to know exactly what it was that Notre Dame's bell ringer feared so about being loved. What was wrong with wanting to be loved? That man…who could love a man like that? The villagers' words as they gossiped about her behind her back felt like a cold bucket of ice water from the River Seine poured over her head.</p><p>"Excuse me, dear," a warbling old woman's voice spoke up.</p><p>"Oh, for God's sake!" she squeaked angrily, blearily lifting her head from her mug. "I…oh," she breathed, feeling her blue eyes go wide and round. "M-my apologies, madame, I—I thought that you were Maria."</p><p>Baba Yaga stood before her, ancient and withered, wrinkled hands clutching onto a walking stick so that she could move freely without being encumbered. These days, she was entirely too thin, and there were dark circles underneath her brown eyes, suggesting this one did not sleep much. Then again, these days, neither did she.</p><p>Madellaine felt quite flustered. "Wh—I-is there something I can help you with, Yaga…?" She was trying her hardest not to sound nonplussed but ultimately, it came across as rather apprehensive of her.</p><p>The old woman chuckled, and Madellaine shivered at how malicious it sounded. To her surprise, she did not sit, though Madellaine waved a hand toward the other chair and politely offered her the other chair.</p><p>She waved away the offer with a wave of her gnarled hand. "No, no, my dear. I cannot stay. I was just passing by. I wanted to get a good look at you, child. I just was passing through the tavern here to get a drink. Fear not, for I was not spying on you, dearie, but I noticed you practically crying into your tankard and how miserable your pretty little face looked so I thought I would do you a kindness and come and check up on you, pet. That's all."</p><p>Madellaine lifted her eyebrows and blushed. She was stumped as to how she ought to react to this news. Since when had Yaga ever cared for her?</p><p>She had heard the fairy tales growing up about fairy godmothers coming to distressed young girls in times of great need, but never did she thought she would actually meet one, and a Seer who could see into the future, at that. Madellaine blushed as she realized Baba was waiting for her to speak.</p><p>"I…w-well, th-that is very kind of you to say," uttered Madellaine, a pink blush speckling along her pale cheeks. She peered down into her empty tankard and shoveled a bite of bread into her mouth while her brain struggled to think of an appropriate response to the hag. "B-but I-I am sure that I will be just fine." Madellaine rose from her chair, grabbing her cape and brushing her hands on the skirts of her dark green dress when the old crone's warbling voice bade her wait.</p><p>"I know that you have not been yourself, child," Yaga croaked, lowering her voice. "I do not believe the rumors that are being thrown around the town about you and Quasimodo. I know you are…not <em>that</em> type of young woman, who would stoop so low as to do these things that they are saying of you." Madellaine could not help but scoff a bit at that.</p><p>Baba Yaga offered the young blonde a wry, sad grin and continued. "I know you do not wish to speak to this old woman about what ails you, but please just know that given what I am and you've seen what I can do, that I know what he can be like." Baba smiled, sensing she had the girl's attention, for the young blonde's blue eyes had widened considerably.</p><p>"Wh—what?" she squeaked, stammering as she tripped over her words.</p><p>"I know what he is like," she repeated patiently. "But that matters not. I forged my own path in life, albeit it is the hard path, but begging on the streets allows for me to see and hear much of the goings-on of the city. I like to think that I know everything in Paris."</p><p>Madellaine fastened her cape around her shoulders, tossing a few coins onto the wooden table for the owner of the tavern and the hearth keep who had brought her drink and food and had been about to turn away when something that Baba Yaga had just mentioned gave her pause.</p><p>The old Russian bitch continued, her voice soft and sounding almost concerned.</p><p>"Quasimodo has always been a monster, my child," and it was here that Madellaine began to detect a sudden shift within the crone's voice. "He doesn't give a damn, just look at the despicable way he treated you, my dear, just like he no doubt threw you away, all because he did not want to face the truth of what he <em>is</em>, the ruin and despair he brings to poor unfortunate souls like you and me who fall into his path."</p><p>"I…" Madellaine's voice cracked and trailed off as she lifted her chin slightly to meet the old hag's gaze, who offered her a toothy little grin.</p><p>"You got too close to him," she breathed, exhaling a sharp breath, her blue eyes becoming glossy. Madellaine blinked owlishly at the beggar woman. Perhaps this was one of her visions as a Seer. "You created entirely too strong a bond with the cathedral's bell ringer, and to protect himself from hurt, he severed it with no regard at all to your feelings."</p><p>Madellaine drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs. She was…she was right. Goddamn her, she was right.</p><p>The young blonde did not even flinch when she felt the gnarled hand of the old woman upon her shoulder, her grip ironclad and strong-willed.</p><p>"Your bell ringer is <em>not</em> a normal man, dearie," she croaked hoarsely, her tone growing more somber by the minute. "He is…a monster, and therefore because of that, the boy keeps his distance, locked away in the tower. It's in his blood. It's just what the boy is, a cold-blooded fiend."</p><p>Madellaine could tell by the bitterness laced through Baba Yaga's Russian accent that she knew Quasimodo quite well, and for a moment, the young former magician's assistant wondered what it was that had happened between the two of them to cause the old woman to speak so poorly of him. "He is <em>not</em> a monster," she whispered softly, wincing at the hurt laced throughout her voice as she came to Quasimodo's defense. "He has had a hard life in those towers, Yaga, and if you truly have the gift of Sight, wouldn't you have seen that?"</p><p>The old woman looked surprised at being addressed with even a sliver of respect, but she quickly nodded, leaning on her stick for support.</p><p>Madellaine took a deep breath and continued. "Quasimodo had his reasons for…what happened," she finished, after biting her lip with some hesitancy, unsure of how much information she could divulge to this old woman, who admittedly, seemed kind enough, but the fact very much remained that Yaga was still a <em>stranger</em> to her, even after all this time.</p><p>Baba scowled, her gray brows knitting together in displeasure.</p><p>"That does not make what he has done to you right," she admonished sternly, reaching up a crooked, slightly trembling hand to brush back a stray wisp of Madellaine's short pixie into place. "My dear young sweet Madellaine, you may not wish to speak to this old woman now of such hurts, but if you ever feel like it, my new home is in the Rat Hole on the other side of the City of Reams, near the east side of the River Seine. My little hovel is always open and if you should ever feel like it, you can be honest with me. I know what Quasimodo is, just as you do, my little dove. Do not feel ashamed to have been tricked by him. He is, after all, a demon."</p><p>With that, Madellaine watched in stunned silence as she watched the old crone throw up the hood of her dark cloak and totter out of the tavern, picking a nobleman's pocket in the process without him realizing.</p><p>The corner of the tavern once again fell into silence.</p><p>She blinked owlishly at the spot where Baba Yaga had stood, wondering if what had just happened was in fact real, or was it all her imagination?</p><p>Madellaine felt, perhaps for the first time since arriving…<em>free</em>. A man's voice from behind her spoke up, startling her, though the snippets of conversation she did catch with the captain and his lieutenant caused a tiny smile to curve and form at the edges of her mouth.</p><p>"Thank you, ladies. Back to Paris again, back from the front of yet another war," he grinned, playfully winking at a pair of serving wenches. "Admiring both the backs…and the fronts," he joked, his eyes briefly wandering the lengths of the women's slender figures before glancing to his lieutenant, Frederic. "After what we've seen…everything looks good," he said happily. "Might one of you enjoy showing my lieutenant around? Frederic is less experienced than I, and he could use someone who might be a good…teacher," he said, his comment earning a laugh from the girl.</p><p>He looked to the noise, and upon seeing Madellaine, broke into a smile and sauntered over, abandoning his lieutenant, leaving him with the women. "Might I sit?" The voice was timid, soft, and quite kind. Madellaine, startled, turned to see none other than Captain Phoebus himself in front of her table.</p><p>"No," she barked, swiveling back in her chair, to her tankard.</p><p>"You've taken an interest in Notre Dame's bell ringer, even after all this time, since he kicked you out of the tower," he said, his tone cautious, though if Madellaine concentrated hard enough, she could sense just the briefest twinges of disgust, anger, and jealousy. "Why?"</p><p>"Have I?" she asked, feigning innocence, quirking her brow at the captain and giving off a little smirk of a grin. "And why shouldn't I take an interest in Quasimodo, he's an interesting man, is he not, Phoebus?"</p><p>"<em>Is</em> he?" shot back Phoebus, who, much to her chagrin, sat down on the chair opposite her, on the other end of the table. He smiled.</p><p>Madellaine huffed in frustration, sweeping her blonde bangs out of her eyes and slamming down her tankard in agitation. "No. Not particularly," she growled, and even she winced at the bitterness that was laced in her voice. Her hands gripped the tankard in her hands, her blue eyes swiveling towards the back of her head in a distressing sense of a headache.</p><p>She tilted her head towards the edge of her chair as she took a long swig of the dark substance that affected her, but allowed the details of her fight with Quasi to become numb and blurred, pushing the details to the back of her mind.</p><p>Captain Phoebus fell silent, fiddling with his wedding band and regarding the young blonde woman who sat before him in silence for several long moments, furrowing his blond brows, deep in thought. "You're lying," he spoke up, his voice calm but accusatory.</p><p>Madellaine stared. "What?" she demanded, feeling that familiar fire-seed of anger well within the pits of her stomach. It seemed all she felt these days ever since their fight was anger. She let out a defeated sigh.</p><p>"About your feelings for him," he stated simply, his hazel eyes twinkling as he flagged down the serving girl to request his own tankard of ale. "I know that look. Esmeralda gets it quite often at me whenever we fight…"</p><p>Madellaine bit her lip and hesitated, unsure of how much of her life she could divulge to the captain of the cathedral guard currently seated across from her. But…Phoebus had been one of the first souls upon her unusual and unorthodox arrival into Paris following her little 'accident' and for that, she owed the man.</p><p>Captain Phoebus seemed nice enough, and he was just a friend, so divulging at least a little of her past couldn't hurt her now, right?</p><p>"I made the mistake of stealing from Sarousch when I was little. I'm twenty now and I'm all alone. I thought perhaps I could have a new friendship with your church's bell ringer, but…"</p><p>Here, she turned her head sharply to the left, her jaw locking and a muscle there twitching. She felt the hot sting of her tears come, but she blinked back the briny tears back. Madellaine would not cry, not here, not now.</p><p>"Befriending your bell ringer apparently," she heard herself growl as she downed the last of her ale and slammed her cup down hard enough to crack and splinter the wood in the table, "is not <em>allowed</em>. Coming to him for anything these days is more than enough to break me, Phoebus."</p><p>"You don't know what to do," he finished, nodding solemnly. "I understand. My love for Esmeralda back then was forbidden, but…"</p><p>"Without her, you feel like nothing," whispered Madellaine, nodding her agreement, much to Phoebus's astonishment. "For me to come to Quasi for anything apparently, is forbidden, but to stay away from him hurts."</p><p>"I know," he answered grimly, resting his chin in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table. "Damn that boy," he growled, his kind expression darkening, and his hazel eyes almost darkened in anger as he grew irate.</p><p>"Oh, i—it's not…please don't blame Quasimodo," pleaded Madellaine, sensing the captain's ire growing worse. "Yes, he did push me away, but…" Her voice trailed off as she tried her best to gather her thoughts. "I let myself stray, Captain Phoebus, my heart strayed where it should not have, and now I sit in this tavern and my mind has to pull itself back to within the confines it's permitted to roam. He does not want me in his life anymore, and for that, though it hurts, I respect his wishes."</p><p>"I see," said Phoebus, though internally, he was quite troubled. He had not heard the young woman speak like this before, and it worried him. A heavy silence settled over them, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. Unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around and tried to avoid catching other glances that passed by.</p><p>Some shifted uncomfortably in their seat and others grasped their sweaty, nervous hands under the tables, and even others shuffled their feet against the cobbles of the bar floor, awkwardly tracing the outlines of each brick while judging whispers swirled in the air around the small space where the young woman and captain sat.</p><p>"Well," began Madellaine hesitantly, standing to her feet, at last, brushing her hands on the skirts of her simple green velvet dress, pulling her blue cape over her shoulders and fastening. "I cannot stay, Captain, but…" she dipped into her bag and procured the letter she had written. "Will you or someone that you trust give to Quasi? When the time is right? It's because of me he suffers so, and I cannot...will not," she corrected quickly, a pink blush forming on her cheeks, "let anyone else, least of all <em>him</em>, get hurt, because of <em>me</em>."</p><p>"How will I know?" he asked, his palm outstretched as she handed over the letter. He was perplexed as the young blonde gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, having to reach up on her tiptoes in order to do so, as he was several feet taller than she was.</p><p>"It's not sealed," she whispered, giving him a sad smile, and turned on the heel of her boot, clutching the strap of her bag close to her shoulder.</p><p>Phoebus, intrigued, watched her go until her silhouette disappeared out of the tavern and down a winding side street, heading towards the outskirts. Curious, he unfolded the letter and began to read, his hazel eyes widening in shock.</p><p>Dread crept down Phoebus's spine like a careful spider leaving a trail of silk as he read her words, what she was likely planning to do to ease the heartache of their fight. He felt her feet on his skin, descending until he was almost frozen to the spot. The captain's stomach was full of lead; his feet set in concrete; his mind was worryingly empty.</p><p>Even he knew as he bolted out the front doors of the establishment, that he was too late to go after her, for she had disappeared, as if by magic. Madellaine Barreau was gone from their lives.</p><p>And it was all Quasi's fault.</p><p>"Just great, goddamn it, and goddamn that boy," he growled darkly. "When he finds out, he's going to hate himself even further, and then there's no stopping that boy." Frowning, Phoebus gritted his teeth and ground them in anger, silently seething as he grabbed the reins of his horse, Achilles. "C'mon, boy," he grumbled, not wasting a second to hop up into the saddle. "We've got to go warn Quasi."</p><p>Achilles whinnied in response and let out a snort of frustration.</p><p>"We don't know what she might do to herself, boy!" he sighed, digging his heels into the side of his horse to propel him forward. "Besides," he added smugly, unable to keep the brief note of pride out of his voice. "How many times have I <em>ever</em> been wrong, Achilles, huh?"</p><p>The horse neighed and tapped his hoof on the cobblestone street. Once…two…three…four.</p><p>"<em>Achilles</em>!" snapped Phoebus, giving a harsh tug on the horse's reins. "That was a <em>rhetorical</em> question. If you are quite finished, let's go…"</p><p>The thundering of hooves split the silence as a lone stallion galloped through the bleak landscape. The wind wisped his mane into the air like flames. His muscles rippled from under his freshly groomed pelt and his powerful legs. They propelled him forward and kept him going as he powered over the land.</p><p>He could only pray as they rode on that they weren't too late.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>26</strong>
</p><p><strong>GOOSEBUMPS </strong>prickled along the back of her neck and all along Madellaine’s arms as she shivered as the familiar towering silhouette of Sarousch’s slender figure approached her from behind. Grinding her teeth in annoyance and a surge of anger, she whirled around, unable to control her frustration at seeing her former master.</p><p>Growing up around the man, Madellaine had never been able to fully appreciate the sheer terror anyone who he killed, more recently in her mind, the twins, what they must have felt before they’d died.</p><p>But now she thought she could understand it completely. He approached her slowly and calmly in the alleyway, the knife gleaming in the moonlight. His actions were always controlled, he never rushed.</p><p>Even when things went horribly wrong, Sarousch was a man who remained unaffected. Madellaine felt tears stung at her eyes as he came closer to her and she waited. She knew her chances of making a run for it and heading towards the cathedral to claim sanctuary were slim to none. Sarousch would manage to catch her before she could even make it two feet away.</p><p>He could snap her in half like a twig if Sarousch was of a mind to.</p><p>The lean, tall man didn’t look it, but he was strong. And something told Madellaine the ringmaster would much rather use that big knife he held in his hands.</p><p>“M—master?” she squeaked, her voice escaping past her lips in a breathy little mewl.</p><p>Sarousch’s right arm rose up over the young blonde and Madellaine instinctively raised her hands to try to shield her face. She supposed any other person would have thought it kind of ironic that a man to whom she literally owed a life debt was now about to pay off her debts with her own life, considering all that she had done for him.</p><p>She was the best pickpocket within Sarousch’s ranks in the circus. She was sure no doubt to feel ridiculous to feel betrayed by Sarousch. The man was her master and he owed her nothing special.</p><p>She tried so hard to please him though, and now the brute was going to kill her, just the same as he had done to those stupid twins.</p><p>“Sarousch, <em>wait</em>!” she cried out in fear and alarm when he suddenly jerked his hand down and he froze for a half of a second.</p><p>Madellaine squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable feeling that was sure to follow, for the feeling of his sharpened blade to rip into her flesh, her punishment for flat-out refusing to bring him Quasi, but that moment for the circus performer never came at all.</p><p>When she managed to recover some of her courage, and it no longer felt like she was going to pass out or vomit all over the cobblestoned streets beneath her boots, she cautiously peeked open one eyelid and looked towards the man whom she had one called ‘Father.’</p><p>Sarousch stared at her blankly but she could see his blue eyes burning brighter than any midnight torch in a sconce could ever flame.</p><p>They held the look Madellaine used to attribute to him whenever the ringmaster was trying to make up his mind on something. “Master?” she asked, softer this time, her tone subdued, and to her utter amazement, the circus’s ringmaster dropped his knife-yielding hand, and merely stared at the blonde blankly.</p><p>Madellaine swallowed thickly past the lump in her throat and looked up at Sarousch cautiously, wondering what he wanted of her. She had no clue what to do or how to go about this.</p><p>A squeak escaped past her lips as he slowly brought up his smooth, left hand and hovered the pads of his fingertips over her right cheekbone, hovering.</p><p>Madellaine could feel Sarousch’s fingertips ghosting on her face, even though he never once touched her.</p><p>He was…<em>toying</em> with her.</p><p>She shuddered as a violent shiver clawed its way up and down her spine. It was like an electrical surge, a charge, that caused goosebumps to erupt once again all over her ice-cold flesh.</p><p>As she nervously watched Sarousch, Madellaine inexplicably felt a swell of happiness flood through her system, creating a surge of warmth starting in her chest. She blinked owlishly, hardly daring to believe with her eyes what she was seeing.</p><p>Was this another of Baba’s magic tricks? Was it?</p><p>He wasn’t…Sarousch wasn’t going to kill her, after all! Maybe, just maybe, he had formed some type of attachment to her as a human being, as he had once called her his daughter, once upon a time, though that time had seemed so long ago. He’d not called her that since she was little, and he stopped altogether when she came of age at the ripe age of sixteen.</p><p>But now, at that moment, she felt that everything she had done for the French ringmaster, granted, it was only twenty-two years, had all been worth it.</p><p>She’d done the impossible. If only she knew what Sarousch really felt for her, what kind of attachment the man had formed for her if anything at all.</p><p>However, this euphoric feeling of accomplishment was not to last.</p><p>Her surge of triumph dissipated almost immediately as she watched in silence as the tall man raised his knife again, but before Madellaine could feel the inevitable terror that would soon flood through her, he jerked his hand down, bringing the handle of his blade down on her forehead.</p><p>Her vision immediately went black, and she pitched forward, landing completely unconscious at the man’s black leather boots.</p><hr/><p>Madellaine winced and let out a tired sigh as her eyelids fluttered open. Her once tranquil face now welcomed a struggle. Her head throbbed.</p><p>The pain felt like someone had taken a knife to her skull. She rested her head against the wall of whatever frigid cold room she was currently being held captive in. Squeezing her eyes shut, the young woman silently begged and willed her pains to go away, but they refused.</p><p>The rest of the little world around her, the bedroom of whatever dilapidated corner of Paris in a hovel of an inn he’d brought her to became detached, and all Madellaine could concentrate on was the pain of that moment.</p><p>She was hardly aware of Sarousch speaking to her, the only thing she knew was how much everything <em>really</em> hurt, and her body could certainly attest to this. She couldn't tell whether or not she'd broken or sprained anything, but Good Lord Almighty, her whole body hurt.</p><p>Why did it ache so bad?! What happened? She exhaled a shaking breath through her nose, thinking that if she had a prayer of getting out of this predicament alive, then the first thing she needed to do was a test for any broken bones or sprained appendages.</p><p>Madellaine tried her toes first, feeling them wiggle comfortably inside her boots. <em>Oh, thank God</em>, she thought and resisted the urge to break into tears.</p><p>Next came her fingers. The digits on both her hands moved with ease, stiffly, but at least there was no pain when she wiggled and flexed her fingers. The rest of her, however, mostly her head in this case, was debatable. It <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>What did she <em>do</em> to it? Did she hit it on a—</p><p>Then she remembered. <em>Damn</em>.</p><p>"Shit." She stammered, as her pupils dilated in the dimly lit bedroom, and she realized that a strong hand, his hand was hovering over the pale column of her throat, his spindly fingers wound tightly around it like poison ivy crept up a pillar back at Hogwarts.</p><p>The bedroom she found herself in was bathed in shadow, but Sarousch's eyes burned like midnight torches, and in them, it was like there was nothing there to behold, only a single emotion the young witch could describe as hatred and a frustrated desire… <em>For me</em>, she thought fearfully, and swallowed her fear, and blinked owlishly at the man as he spoke.</p><p>"Hello, little dove. Glad to see you are awake. I was beginning to think that I had already <em>killed</em> you. I am glad to see that is not the case, little Mads. You and I…we'll have so much <em>fun</em> together. You'll see. You see…since you failed to bring me the bell ringer, we’re just going to have to do this the <em>hard</em> way, éclair. I don’t want to, you know I hate to spoil your pretty little body, but you leave me no other alternative, pet.”</p><p>Madellaine didn't want to think of it. Just the thought enough made her sick.</p><p>She exhaled an audible sigh of relief as her captor relinquished his grip upon her throat, and she was able to take advantage of the man's hesitation and lack of response for the moment to get a better look at her surroundings.</p><p><em>Oh, thank god</em>, she thought, repressing a moan. Madellaine wasn't sure if she should break down into tears and cry or beg. She swallowed nervously, feeling a stab of a fear prick at her heartstrings, that damned stubborn, feeble, <em>weak</em> muscle within the confines of her chest.</p><p>Sarousch held the knife, twisting it in the moonlight as if it could slice up the rays of the moon themselves, his listless expression exaggerated by the dark shadows around the man's sunken-in orbs. Though rust had set in on the handle and blade, it was strong and jagged—much more than enough to suit his intended purpose and fulfill his needs.</p><p>The little blonde bitch had rejected him for the last time. He could already see Madellaine laying in a pool of darkening blood and his emaciated face split into a grin that arced in a sickly way, never making it to Sarousch's almost sunken eyes.</p><p>Madellaine let out a whimper and quickly averted her gaze, only seeing a thick coating of dust. Not a footfall had disturbed this room in quite some time.</p><p><em>This means no one will think to look here for you</em>, Madellaine's subconscious unhelpfully offered. <em>You're trapped</em>.</p><p>She stifled a cry of pain. Wincing, she reached up a shaking hand to touch the swelling knot at the base of her skull, where it throbbed, and her fingers came away sticky. Either way, any sort of sudden movements, given her dire predicament, did not seem like a wise move just yet.</p><p>She emanated a tense exhale through her nose and tried to focus on regulating her breathing back to something that even resembled an inkling of normalcy, a rather difficult task.</p><p>The air in this wretched accursed bedroom was thick with moisture, and it smelled heavily of blood, mold, and death. Sweat lingering in the air. It felt as though the walls around her were closing in. The darkness was overwhelming.</p><p>It felt…suffocating. There was a horrible tightness in her throat as it hollowed and constricted, cutting off any air to her passageways and she gasped. Her breaths seemed to stutter in her lungs before she let it go, feeling the tension drain from her body.</p><p>One glance across the room to do a fell sweeping swoop of her surroundings was more than enough for her to feel utterly lost.</p><p><em>Trapped. Trapped, I'm trapped</em>, she thought, biting the inside wall of her cheek and blinking back briny, salty liquid that threatened to escape her eyelids.</p><p>Madellaine flinched barely half an inch to her left and could swear it felt as though her head had been cloven in two.</p><p>The young blonde circus performer winced as she reached up a trembling hand—and even <em>that</em> hurt—and gingerly touched the back of her head.</p><p>There it was. A good knot the size of an egg, and she felt sticky moisture entangled in the back of her hair that could only be matted and congealed blood.</p><p>When she shifted her shoulders to scoot slightly to the left, they felt incredibly bruised, and a quick glance downward confirmed her suspicions as to the black and blue markings covered her shoulders and her collarbones.</p><p>The slightest movement sent swells of fiery pains down her arms and up towards her neck. Madellaine ground her teeth to prevent her from crying out in pain and swallowed back her scream.</p><p>She was <em>not</em> going to give Sarousch the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort. She closed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the antagonism flare in Sarousch's darkened orbs, nor did she even want to begin to think of imagining what kind of monstrosities this creep had planned.</p><p>Though her plans immediately changed when she felt light, tender stroking of her right thigh, the Ringmaster's nails raking down the material of her jeans.</p><p>Against her better judgment, her eyes flung open, and at first, her vision was hazy, blurry, and very much out of focus, and she blearily lifted her chin slightly to try to better see a few feet in front of her.</p><p>Only able to make out the most basic of shapes and colors, and even that was a challenge considering there was no light in this room. No light fixtures, no candles were lighted for warmth.</p><p>But Sarousch's eyes burned like pinpricks in the night, as she had finally managed to clear her vision by blinking rapidly, and the first shape and color that had solidified with that of the man’s dark, listless orbs.</p><p>A smoldering rage simmered just below their surface, and Madellaine swallowed hard past the constricting in her throat.</p><p> A wave of anger and fierceness, burning bright and fast, so torrent that it felt like waves crashing against cliffsides in retaliation.</p><p>Sarousch, Madellaine knew, was a man who yielded to no one. He took orders from no one but himself. He was a man strong-willed and very much assertive and did not look at all shy about taking what he wanted, which was, in this case, <em>her life</em>. She knew what the man was going to do.</p><p>He was going to use her as bait in order to lure Quasi to come out. She gulped nervously and blinked back the fresh onset of tears welling in the corner of her eyes.</p><p>She could not—<em>would</em> not—let Sarousch see her cry, though she was scared.</p><p><em>Terrified</em>, actually. Madellaine let out a muffled whine as the ringmaster scooted closer towards her, closing off the gap of space from where he had knelt into a crouch on the floor.</p><p>"Wh—what do you want with me?" she whispered, her voice escaping her as a hoarse croak. She flinched and shirked away from his touch as his grip on her thigh deepened.</p><p>Madellaine clenched her eyes shut, feeling his fingers start to drift tenderly through her hair, and she whimpered in fear upon hearing Sarousch growl.</p><p><em>Damn</em>. Madellaine bit the inside wall of her cheek, cursing herself for allowing her emotions to get the better of her.</p><p>The moment she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and tried to look away from him, she let out a pained gasp as she felt Sarousch's hand crack across her face, snapping it back with the force of his blow and causing her aching head to reel sickeningly against the wall.</p><p>The slap was as loud as a clap and stung her right cheek. It had been one hell of an open-handed smack and it had left a red welt behind in its wake.</p><p>Just below her eye was a small cut where one of the man’s stolen ruby adorned rings had caught her. Madellaine clutched at her face, her eyes rapidly welling with salty tears.</p><p>"<em>Look at me</em>," Sarousch barked, reaching up a surprisingly tender hand to caress her cheek, the pads of his fingertips ghosting along with the freshly forming crimson cut.</p><p>Madellaine shirked away violently from his touch, though she quickly obliged and she reluctantly felt her hair change back to its raven black color, the same as before.</p><p>Madellaine blinked back briny tears, trying not to cry. <em>Need to get away. He's going to kill me...or worse! </em>She swallowed down hard past the lump in her throat, and wildly looked for a way out.</p><p>None that she could see.</p><p>Though she was finding that increasingly more and more difficult. Sarousch's emaciated face, sunken in and hollow, looking as though he'd not eaten a good square meal in days, was now mere inches from hers, and then, there was the silver knife from earlier pressed against the pale column of her throat. She could feel the panic begin to well deep in the confines of her chest.</p><p>Madellaine shot out an arm in an attempt to pull the crude weapon away from the delicate skin of her throat, but Sarousch was even faster than she was, catching her arm in mid-air and slamming her injured, and now probably dislocated shoulder, into the wall behind her.</p><p>Pain erupted from the point of impact and she couldn't stop the cry of pain that escaped her lips, despite her best efforts to contain it.</p><p>Oh, god, it <em>hurt</em>!</p><p>"You <em>know</em> what I want, little dove, it’s <em>obvious</em>," Sarousch growled, his breath hot and ragged against her face. Madellaine clenched her eyes shut and violently turned her head to the left.</p><p>Anything but to look her would-be-assailant in those eyes of his.</p><p>At this point, if she tried, he might very well kill her for her insolence against him.  Nothing good had to come from Madellaine trying to prove her independence, that she could do this on her own without any kind of help.</p><p>Madellaine had cared <em>so</em> <em>much</em> about proving everyone here in Paris wrong, that she’d denied sanctuary from the Archdeacon when one of the lay brothers had sought her out a few weeks ago, almost demanding that she return to the church, fearing for her own safety.</p><p>She’d staunchly refused, not wanting to have to see Quasi again if he was just going to continue to shut her out. Well. That reckless decision was certainly coming back to bite her now, wasn't it?</p><p>Madellaine felt her lips part open to say something to him, to beg and plead with him to let her go, that this was not right, though no words were forming and coming to her.</p><p>She found herself unable to answer, only to stare up into Sarousch's face, those rage-filled eyes, terror clutching onto her vice in a vice-like iron grip. She couldn't respond, all she could do was look into Sarousch's eyes.</p><p>Madellaine could feel the panic begin in her abdomen, churning her stomach in intense cramps, as the tension grew in her face and limbs, her mind replaying all possible scenarios of whatever Sarousch wanted to do now.</p><p>Madellaine decided she didn't like it, and there was no way out of this without someone, most likely <em>her</em>, getting hurt.</p><p>Her breathing became more rapid, shallower. The horrible thoughts were accelerating inside her head as they came. She wanted them to slow down so she could breathe, but they damned just wouldn't. Her breaths came in gasps and she felt like she was going to be sick.</p><p>Still unable to inspire the response he seemed to want, Sarousch continued, lowering his voice, and Madellaine flinched as she felt the pads of his fingers ghosting in the back of her hair, finding purchase in the tresses of her short blonde hair.</p><p>Sarousch licked his lips to moisten them, and when no moisture came, he growled in frustration, both from that and from his precious servant's lack of response or interest.</p><p>Did she not <em>see</em> that he could make it <em>better</em> for her now?</p><p>"My offer still stands. You do this for me willingly of your own volition, and you won't want for anything else the rest of your life, little dove."</p><p>He was at last, successful in inspiring a response from her. Her panic and fear, at the very least, he was pleased to see, hadn't turned the young girl dumb, but then she was a smart woman.</p><p>It was her best quality, though not the only quality he had ever admired.</p><p>"Ngh—<em>get off of me</em>!" Madellaine screamed, squirming in Sarousch's tight grip.</p><p>She was scared of the man's tones but more terrified of what would happen to her if she didn't put up a fight and just let this creep do whatever he wanted to her.</p><p>Even as Sarousch's hand came up to grip her injured, bruised shoulder, leaving more painful bruises with his calloused hands, Madellaine continued to try in vain to escape, crawling on her backside on the dusty floor of the abandoned bedroom of the inn.</p><p>It wasn't until Sarousch balled his strong hand into a fist and barreled it into her right ribcage that she finally ceased her futile attempt to escape him.</p><p>Madellaine coughed and groaned, clutching at her stomach as she doubled over in pain. The only thing she could do was choke and gasp out a pained breath, unable to focus on anything else but the fiery swells of pain in her right ribcage.</p><p>"<em>Stop</em>. <em>Moving</em>. You're going to want to go along with this, sweetheart," Sarousch threatened menacingly. "Next move you make against me, little pet, and I'll be forced to hurt you. I really <em>don't</em> want to hurt you, darling, so if you even <em>think</em> about screaming or biting me, this is going to get <em>so</em> much worse, my love. I won't hurt you unless you make me. I don't <em>want</em> to hurt you. Get me?"</p><p>Madellaine whimpered as Sarousch grabbed a fistful of her short hair in his clutches and tugged her head painfully back. She let out a pained gasp and tried to force herself to hold still, though every single one of her instincts told her to fight back.</p><p>The man was too strong for her to overpower on brute strength alone, and without her wand, poor Madellaine was pretty much at Sarousch's complete whims.</p><p>“I’m feeling…<em>merciful</em> today and giving you <em>one</em> last chance to go to Notre Dame this very evening and do this the <em>easy</em> way, otherwise, I’m going to have to do this the <em>hard</em> way, with Baba’s help, and you’re <em>not</em> going to like what happens to you. You’ve seen it yourself, haven’t you?”</p><p>“<strong>NO</strong>!” she screamed, terror pricking at her heartstrings, immediately sending her into a panicked frenzy at what he was proposing to do to her.</p><p>She would not—<em>could</em> not—let Baba use her magic on her. She knew what it entailed. He would kill her, and with the old Russian bitch’s help, Yaga would reanimate her corpse, turn her into a mindless husk that only did as Yaga commanded through the sheer power of her magic.</p><p>Madellaine bristled as his hand came up for a fourth time to continue his incessant behavior of stroking her cheek with the pads of his fingertips in that gentle way that sent a chill down her spine.</p><p>She felt that familiar hot fire seed of anger well deep within the churning pit of her stomach and she ground her teeth and locked her jaw.</p><p>"You could slay a dozen fire-breathing dragons and I <em>still</em> won't consent to your <em>terms</em>," Madellaine hissed, her voice hoarse and shaking as his hand came up to grip onto the pale column of her throat and squeezed, but not enough to cut off her air supply. "Not in this life, or <em>ever</em>!"</p><p>She emanated a tense exhale through her nose and lifted her chin, jutting it out defiantly and dared to meet the ringmaster’s cold gaze. She flinched, almost wishing she hadn't thought to look.</p><p>The manner in which Sarousch's eyes turned cold sent a tremor down Madellaine's spine and made her chest dent in fear and utter horror.</p><p>"Then you leave me<em> no other choice</em>…I’m sorry it has to come to this. I really am, but remember, this is on you, darling dove, not me, love.”</p><p>Madellaine knew there was no point in begging or trying to plead with her master, and she was confident she didn’t have the strength left in her to do so anyway. Her life was now in Sarousch’s hands, and nothing she could do or say was going to sway this cruel, wicked man’s heart.</p><p>She felt herself go limp and she closed her eyes as she allowed blissful unconsciousness to take her, not even feeling it as Sarousch took his dagger and plunged the hilt of his weapon into the side of her ribcage.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One of my favorite chapters of this fic of mine, for reasons that I shan't spoil. (Insert evil laughter here) On with the show! Enjoy, my fellow Notre Dame and Disney fans!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>25</strong>
</p><p><strong>QUASI </strong>had been spending more and more time by himself. In the beginning, shortly after Madellaine vacated the cathedral after their argument that he was sure the entire congregation had heard, he’d told himself that sending the young blonde circus performer away was the right thing to do. The distraught bell ringer forced himself to believe in his convictions, though as the days dragged it, it became increasingly more difficult.</p><p>He’d closed off his heart and fought with his agonized mind to accept that it was best for all of them, but most especially, for Madellaine Renee Barreau. In his warped and twisted mind, heavily clouded with thoughts of anger at what he would inflict upon the young blonde who had sneakily wormed her way into his heart and stolen it before he’d even realized that it was gone, the consequences of his actions of sequestering himself off from all that he loved, his gargoyles, Phoebus, and Esmeralda, had reactions of their own.</p><p>Phoebus and Esmeralda treated him more coldly than ever before, and soon, only Phoebus came around at all to see him, and only for five or so minutes at a time. Esmeralda had claimed it was entirely too painful to see her best friend destroy himself slowly like this, that it broke her heart to see him this way, and she’d left in a fit of anger not that long after a discussion that resulted in a shouting match, ending with Quasi losing his temper and chucking a wooden chalice at her head, narrowly missing her left ear.</p><p>It had been as Esmeralda was storming her way down the stairwell that would take her away from his north bell tower loft and towards the main level of the cathedral’s sanctuary, murmuring words under her breath that were the Archdeacon to catch her uttering within the walls of this sacred place, he would surely expel her from Notre Dame without so much as a second thought, but it was in that moment that he realized how much he cared for Madellaine.</p><p>It was the memories of his time with the young blonde, and the knowledge of how badly he had hurt his friend, that pained the desolate and forlorn bell ringer the very most. The unbearable ache in the wretched feeble, quivering muscle that rested within his chest was so overwhelming and very nearly constant now, that on more than a few occasions he was tempted to take one of Master Frollo’s old daggers that he wore in a sheath around his waist, the knife now used for carving, and plunge it into his own chest and end his anguish.</p><p>The image of her distraught face as she stood at the edge of the balcony here in this very tower loft would haunt him. It burned his very retinas so badly that he wished he could just tear them out. He saw Madellaine in his dreams. He saw Madellaine when he woke, even when he did not wish to.</p><p>They were parted, and yet, like a horrible fly that he could not swat, the young woman’s phantasm image remained with him. But now… It was better than he was out of Madellaine’s life for good now before he’d poisoned her with the wickedness and corruptness of his own putrid, black heart.</p><p>For what beauty could learn to love a monster such as him? Master Frollo had been right. He was nothing but that, so why should he pretend to be anything else but a wretch?  He’d given up any potential friendship, perhaps even more than they might have shared, to keep the girl safe.</p><p>On these long and arduous nights in which sleep would not come to him so peacefully, and lately, there were several, he’d crawl from his tousled mess of blankets in the corner of his sleeping nook, his linen nightshirt drenched in sweat, and crawl from his tower loft to sit astride the balustrade out on the balcony and watch the night skies twinkle above his head.</p><p>Quasi tried to comfort himself, the only thing he could do to assuage his guilt that he had made the right decision. He tried to tell himself that Madellaine was at least under the same stars as he was, though his mind would often drift to how they paled in comparison to the young woman’s sapphire blue irises, and his heart would shatter into a million pieces all over again.</p><p>There were many times throughout his long days that Quasi wished he’d given into the baser desires of his heart, digging his nails into his gloved palms hard enough to bleed, forcing himself not to leave the sanctity of the church and seek out the young blonde mademoiselle, to grovel at Madellaine’s feet and beg Barreau for her forgiveness, if she would take him back if she would even have a <em>monster</em> like him. But now as he stood awake yet again as the full moon lay behind a cloud or two, the calm wind ruffling his wavy ginger hair gently off his forehead, he wished he could lay prostrate for her for all time trying to win back her heart if that’s what she required of him.</p><p>But he understood that such a concept was impossible. Nothing but a dream, and to earn her forgiveness would be nothing short of an ordinary miracle. As long as he drew breath in his lungs, she would not be safe. The simple folk, the mental bits, of Paris, would shun a beauty such as her for associating with a creature the likes of him. No. As much as Quasi ached for it, his wish would never be able to come to fruition. He’d made his choice and reaped what he’d sown, and now he would have to live with that decision.</p><p>This was his cross to bear.</p><p>“Quasi?” came the deep, unmistakable, and slightly husky tone of Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers’ voice.</p><p>Quasi inwardly groaned and rolled his eyes to himself, huffing in agitation and keeping his arms folded across his broad chest as Esmeralda’s husband marched out onto the balcony to lean against the balustrade wall alongside him. It occurred to Notre Dame’s sole bell ringer just then that he was not in the mood for company tonight.</p><p>Particularly not with Paris’s Captain of the Guard.</p><p>He merely grunted wordlessly in acknowledgment, not turning to look at the handsome, golden-haired bloke.</p><p>Quasi’s expression darkened as he felt Phoebus nudge beside him so close that their shoulders touched. He stiffened, instinctively recoiling, and stepped away from him. He was not in the mood to be touched, nor mollycoddled tonight, and he was not in a patient mood.</p><p>“Phoebus, you have exactly <em>one</em> <em>minute</em> to tell me why you’ve come or I’m going to—” he started to bark harshly in a gruff, grating voice that was the physical embodiment of the grave itself, but Phoebus cut him off.</p><p>“Spare me the attitude, boy, I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight. You’ve been insufferable these last few weeks, kid. It needs to stop and now. My wife cannot bear to keep seeing you sending yourself into this spiraling depression, and frankly, neither can I. It’s boring,” he snapped meanly. “Now, you heed my words and listen well, because I don’t like repeating myself twice, so shut up and pay attention, boy, do you hear me?” Phoebus spat in an uncharacteristically clipped tone through gritted teeth. His calloused hands came up to rest on either of Quasi’s shoulders and he shook the younger, taller man slightly. “I ran into our mutual little friend today. She left me something to give to you. Don’t give me that dirty look, boy, I <em>know</em> what you’re thinking, and <em>no</em>, I’ve not read it. You truly believe me to hold such low principles?” he quickly explained, digging into an interior pocket of his bright blue teal archer’s cloak, and silently passed it along to Quasi.</p><p>Quasi drew in a sharp breath of cold frigid air that pained his lungs, though, in truth, the pain welling in his chest had little to do with the cold and everything to do with Madellaine’s abandonment. <em>That YOU started, you wretch</em>, the snakelike voice that sounded entirely too much like Master Frollo’s voice inside of his head whispered.</p><p>A muscle in his jaw twitched as he swiped the letter almost aggressively so out of Phoebus’s outstretched hand.</p><p>The tips of his fingers twitched in the anticipation to read what it said, though he wished to wait until he was well and truly alone before divulging into the note’s contents. He did not want Phoebus to see him as he was at present—a complete and utter bloody mess of himself.</p><p>“Is that <em>all</em>? Did you come all this way to give me a letter? If your business here is concluded, you can get <em>out</em> now. <em>Go</em>, Phoebus. <em>Leave</em>,” Quasimodo asked in a flat tone, cringing inwardly at how listless and dull his tenor-like tone sounded. He did not sound like himself at all. Not a bit.  </p><p>Phoebus bit down on his bottom lip, suddenly looking nervous, Quasi was quick to notice out of the corner of his peripherals as he reverted his limited gaze. Phoebus bristled, seething at the cold dismissal.</p><p>“Don’t you take that tone with <em>me</em>, boy, I came all this way to see you, and I’m not leaving here till I’ve had my say,” he growled, a warning note seeping its way to his voice. “Esmeralda was right, Quasimodo. You’ve changed ever since your…ah, disagreement with Madellaine and not necessarily for the better, but that’s not what I came here to discuss,” he snapped, quickly sensing imminent danger from Quasi as the bell ringer’s shoulders squared and he slowly lifted his gaze, almost dangerously so, to look at him.</p><p>Phoebus swallowed, wanting to stay on the boy’s good side. He’d still not forgotten how the boy had snapped four stone marble pillars clean off their support foundations a year ago to save Esmeralda from burning.</p><p>“So why <em>did</em> you come, Phoebus?” Quasi hissed through clenched teeth, turning his head away sharply from the golden-haired man and actively avoiding his glowering.</p><p>Phoebus resisted the urge to stomp his foot in visible frustration. He swallowed down the worst of his anger. <em>Quasi deserves to hear this</em>, he told himself.</p><p>“There is, ah, one more thing,” the blond man announced in as calm a tone as he could possibly manage to muster up, taking in a long breath before speaking.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Quasi snapped meanly, turning towards Phoebus, and waiting for his friend’s reaction to all of this. "<em>Well</em>? Don't just <em>stand</em> there. Spit it out and then get out of here!"</p><p>Phoebus blew out a puff of air with his cheeks before finally just deciding to come out with his revelation that he had come here to tell the man. He’d ridden Achilles to the outskirts of the city naught but forty-five minutes ago.</p><p>The circus’s encampment had quit the scene entirely, and Madellaine de Barreau was nowhere to be found at all. He’d asked around. The baker, a few shop owners.</p><p>No one had seen her. Phoebus was starting to fear for the worst, that something unspeakable and abhorrent had happened to the young mademoiselle whom he more or less regarded at this point as someone akin to a sister. He had thought to come here, to see if maybe there was the slimmest chance she had decided to try to speak with the church’s bell ringer, to get the man to see sense. Phoebus could see now, however, this was not the case.</p><p>“Madellaine has gone <em>missing</em>, Quasi. I’ve got my men combing the city, I hope to find her, but I just thought…considering the two of you were friends once, perhaps even more, that you should know about it, friend.”</p><p>Quasi felt his heart plummet to the pit of his churning stomach. His knuckles became white-boned with the effort to clutch onto the balustrade’s railing with the effort to steady himself. He started to step backward on his heels to grab his cloak and flee, but then he realized how the action might be viewed by Captain Phoebus as desperate. Instead, he stayed rooted to his spot, though he felt as though his legs could barely support his own weight.</p><p>He grabbed at the hilt of Master’s old dagger as if he thought that could bear his weight. Phoebus noticed this. Quasimodo opened his mouth to try to speak, but it felt as though there was a gag on his tongue as his throat hallowed, cutting off oxygen to his lungs and passageways.</p><p>“H—<em>how</em>?” he managed to rasp in a hoarse whisper.</p><p>Phoebus shrugged his shoulders in such a blasé casual way about the young blonde’s disappearance that Quasi felt a surge in his temper escalate to an entirely dangerous level.</p><p>He was more than a little tempted to lift the soldier up by the scruff of his tunic underneath his golden armor and dangle him off the ledge of the highest point of the cathedral and relish in his screams until Phoebus divulged what he knew of Madellaine’s unexpected vanishing act. Though just as quickly as the wicked thought had come, it dissipated as Quasi let out a low growl through gritted teeth, his chest vibrating rhythmically from the noise, and shook his head to clear his clouded thoughts.</p><p>Phoebus shot Quasi a pointed look. “If I <em>knew</em>, I wouldn’t be <em>here</em>, now, <em>would</em> I?” he snapped in an agitated tone, growing clearly more and more visibly frustrated with the bell ringer’s actions.</p><p>Or rather, to put it more specifically, Quasimodo’s <em>lack</em> of actions when it came to doing anything for the woman he claimed to care for.</p><p>He sighed, pinching at the front of his temples with his nose and forefinger. This felt like Frollo’s threat all over again, having to convince the boy to leave his tower to try to do the right thing for the second time in his young life.</p><p>Phoebus emanated a tense exhale through his flaring nostrils and willed his own temper to cool a little bit before further addressing his friend. “I did not come to your tower tonight to <em>argue</em> with you, my friend. I come in <em>peace</em>,” he emphasized, raising his hands in a show of surrender. “It's bad enough of you and your little lover’s quarrel with the girl, but if we start fighting amongst ourselves, you and I, then we’re all <em>doomed</em>, and I just might as well <em>fling</em> myself from this very balcony and be done with it already,” he growled somberly. “From what little I do know of our friend, she’s quite a slippery little thing, and a skilled thie—”</p><p>Phoebus almost said the word <em>thief</em>, though immediately stopped himself when the younger man shot him a withering look that would have turned him to stone had Quasi the ability. A faint blush crept its way onto his cheeks as he turned his head to the side to cough to stall for time while he wracked his brain for an appropriate response to give the boy, who was clearly in a state of visible distress at such awful news. Phoebus tried again to reach his friend.</p><p>“If anyone could have found a way to survive out on the streets, it’s <em>her</em>, Quasi. She’s used to a hard life, boy, but all the same, I pray nothing dreadful has happened to her.”</p><p>His voice purposefully lingered on the more dire parts of his sentence as he turned at the waist to fully regard Quasi’s visible reaction. Phoebus outwardly cringed as his eyes made a quick scan of the young red-haired bell ringer. The poor boy was pale, paler than Phoebus had ever seen him, almost bone-white rivaling the color of the moon, which was really saying something, as Quasi had always possessed an almost pallid complexion, but this?</p><p>By God, he looked like he was going to be physically <em>sick</em>! Quasi’s face paled and turned an interesting shade of green, and his entire body shook rather violently.</p><p>Quasi swallowed thickly past the bitter disgusting bile rising at the back of his throat. He could feel Captain Phoebus’s eyes burning holes straight through his skull as he forced himself to breathe for air that wasn’t coming to him. His jaw was steel, his strong fists clenched into knots.</p><p>All he wanted was to scale the walls of the cathedral, scour the rooftops and every side street of Paris until he found Madellaine. He would even take it a step further and venture below to the catacombs if that’s what was required.</p><p>But he couldn’t manage to bring himself to move, not even an inch. It was as though his brown leather boots were cemented with hard stone. His heart was a terrified slab in his chest, and it might as well have stopped beating.</p><p>The only way Quasi knew it was still beating was he could hear the sound of it pounding in his damaged eardrums as all the blood felt like it had rushed to his head. He was not aware that he was as pale as a ghost. Quasi’s reeling mind churned with desperation, fear, and more questions than he could tick off on his fingers on both hands.</p><p>Where was Madellaine? What had happened? Where the bloody hell <em>was</em> she? Was she injured or lying dead somewhere in a ravine or at the bottom of the River Seine? How could she have been missing for so long with no trace?</p><p>She was friendly enough and on good terms with Phoebus, Esmeralda, and Clopin. Surely Clopin if no one else had noticed it would have noticed her absence.</p><p>Considering Clopin had apparently granted her a place among that of his Court of Miracles, with his vast network of spies at his command, he would have noticed.</p><p>Quasi wanted to throw back his head and <em>scream</em>, but he clamped down on his tongue hard enough that he tasted blood as it lingered on his tongue and palate. He didn’t want to scream a tirade all the way up to Heaven and startle Phoebus, or wake the people of Paris with his ungodly, demonic screams that were sure to erupt forth from his chest at any given moment if he couldn’t calm down. Oh, God, may Gabriel himself damn him to the seven hells below, what in God’s name had he <em>done</em>?!?</p><p>Where <em>was</em> she? Quasi parted his cracked and slightly chapped lips, turning his attention to Phoebus to ask him a question, though a prattling noise caught the bell ringer’s attention from below where there were three people began to accumulate, coupled by what sounded like Sister Alice. One was shouting out from the bottommost step, things that Quasi could not decipher with his slightly damaged hearing. Being the bell ringer of Notre Dame was an occupational hazard just as it was enjoyable for him.</p><p>His precious bells were just as loud as they were beautiful. Just like Alice, Quasi thought bitterly to himself as he found it difficult not to roll his eyes a bit at the still-beautiful but aging, cantankerous nun began to shout things. Things that he would never dare say on Holy Ground. But from the looks of things and the ungodly obscenities that tumbled from the grey-haired, blue-eyed unorthodox nun who was more or less like a mother figure to him at this point in his life, he knew this wasn’t good.</p><p>“What in God’s name…? Jesus Christ Almighty on a pony, save us from this torment, what in the bloody hell is going on down there? Who's that shifty bastard?” Phoebus growled, his voice trailing off as he peered over the ledge, craning his neck and squinting to try to see what was going on.</p><p>“<em>Language</em>,” Quasi chastised angrily, though before he could scold the captain of the guard further in his fear and growing anger, the sound of wheezing came from behind. He didn’t even have to turn around to know it was none other than the aging Archdeacon Mathias himself.</p><p>“Ah, Captain! And Quasimodo, a good evening to you too,” the Archdeacon panted, wheezing, and gasping for breath, looking winded, clutching a stitch in his side.</p><p>Phoebus rounded on the white-haired old man.</p><p>“What in God’s name is going on down there, Father?” Phoebus asked bluntly, ignoring the withering look the Archdeacon shot the Captain of the Guard for the use of his language, though Phoebus pointedly ignored it.</p><p>“U—uh,” the man squeaked, still sounding in danger of keeling over at any given moment. “Th—there’s a man on the front steps, Captain Phoebus. And a woman.”</p><p>Quasi’s heart soared at the mention of a woman on the front steps of Notre Dame. <em>Could she be</em>…? he wondered, leaning forward to try to peer into the darkness, but they were like mere pinpricks in the dark, and too far away for him to make out any details of the strangers’ faces.</p><p>“What?” Quasi grunted, looking at Phoebus and the Archdeacon sideways out of the corner of his somewhat limited vision. He sighed impatiently, in no mood to be toyed with and not in the best mindset right now. He wished the Archdeacon would just come out and say it.</p><p>“H—he’s seeking an audience with the boy,” the Archdeacon managed to rasp out in a faint voice, resting his back against the cold stone wall of the balcony’s wall for support while his lungs burned for the biting chill of the air around him. In his aging years, his stamina and ability to climb up and down the stairwell was not what it once was.</p><p>This was…<em>not</em> good. Quasi’s head whiplashed sharply upright to regard the Archdeacon’s ashen-lined face.</p><p>“This man,” Quasi began speaking slowly, a horrible churning pit starting to form in his stomach. “Has he a name?” he asked the clergyman, already fearing the worst.</p><p>“H—he didn’t want to say, my son,” Archdeacon Mathias stammered out, shooting him a rather pitying look.</p><p>Quasi felt something ugly snap within himself as his frustrations and agitations began to boil to the surface hotter than the molten lead he used to fix his iron bells.</p><p>“Then tell him to <em>go</em> <em>away</em>, lest I be forced to come down there and wring his neck and beat the wretch within an inch of his miserable disgusting <em>life</em>,” Quasi spat angrily, turning on the heels of his boots to quit the scene, striding away from the trembling form of the frail Archdeacon and the dumbstruck Captain of the Cathedral Guard and King’s Archer’s, who was still trying to peer over the balustrade.</p><p>Notre Dame’s bell ringer had barely crossed the threshold that separated the upper-level mezzanine of his tower’s loft from that of the balcony’s entrance than did he hear the Archdeacon’s frail voice waft to his fatigued and ringing eardrums, still roaring with the rush of his blood.</p><p>Quasi had not stopped either, despite the pleading protests of the Archdeacon to please come back, not until his eyes threw wide open at the heart-wrenching detail.</p><p>“He has Madellaine, my boy,” the Archdeacon stammered, finally allowing Phoebus to intertwine his arm around his and escort him inside the tower to sit in the nearest chair the soldier could find, which in this case happened to be the stool that Quasimodo sat at to carve.</p><p>Quasi’s heart stopped, and the color drained from his face with realization and dawning horror that his initial fear that had wormed its way into the pit of his belly had been right. That icy cold feeling that snaked its chilling tendrils around the feeble quivering muscle in his chest, rendering it almost lifeless, had been correct. It <em>had</em> been Madellaine.</p><p>His legs no longer taking direction from his own mind, much less the rest of his body for that matter, he turned back on his heels and back out onto the balcony and began to scale the walls, ignoring Phoebus’s shouts to wait for him. He growled in frustration. Phoebus knew where the stairs were. Esmeralda’s soldier boy could <em>walk</em> down.</p><p>The moment his boot’s soles touched solid ground, he loped towards the two silhouettes shrouded in shadow.</p><p>Quasi stopped a good distance before the petite woman standing just at the edge of the bottom of the steps.</p><p>Quasi felt his breaths catch in his throat as he studied what had become of Madellaine since he had last seen her.</p><p>Notre Dame’s bell ringer stared straight ahead of him, unable to take his eyes from Madellaine, who remained as still and as lifeless as a statue. A horrible, rasping noise was emitting from the back of her throat and tore Quasi’s heart to pieces. This had been the reason Madellaine had not been found. She’d been <em>kidnapped</em>.</p><p>Though as he looked at her, his heart sank, and he thought he might vomit as he made a quick scan of her features. Something was terribly, horribly wrong with her.</p><p>She was soaked in blood. The right side of her light green linen dress was stained garish crimson, sticky, and ruined beyond repair, though it was his eyes he was drawn to the most, and what chilled the blood in his veins to ice. Barreau’s eyes, once so bright and blue and full of life, now gazed upon the distraught bell ringer with a likeness to that of pale water, empty and void, but it was not that which frightened him that caused a bell to chime a warning in the back of his mind to turn and flee the scene.</p><p>The brilliant crystalline hue that rivaled that of the finest sapphires, the beauty, which was his friend’s eyes, was <em>gone</em>, and in their place, nothing but pitch black. Even the whites of her eyes had turned entirely black, becoming nothing but empty sunken in sockets.</p><p>She looked like Death.</p><p>“<em>Madellaine</em>!” The sheer horror in Quasi’s tenor-like tones cracked and splintered, cracking the air, sending pieces of his heart into the pitch-blackness that lay in front of him, prompting a dark little chuckle from the hooded figure that held her bound. He screamed her name.</p><p>Again, his friend did not answer. Again, her name was ripped from his lips, and yet again, the empty husk of his former friend did not respond.</p><p>The hooded figure that held the young woman captive stepped forward, tugging on the length of chained manacles he held in his gloved hands that held her bound by her wrists, which were scraped and rubbed raw, bleeding profusely, though if it bothered her, Madellaine gave no indication. 

Maybe she couldn’t feel anything at all.</p><p>Nausea roiled in his stomach and bile rose in his throat as the figure lowered the hood of his cloak, stepping forth into the light to reveal a handsome tanned face and a thick black ponytail that almost rivaled that of Clopin’s.</p><p><em>This must be her master</em>, he thought wildly, his one last moment of lucidity fleeing him as he allowed his panic and terror and anger to overtake his mind and his heart.</p><p>“Oh, <em>good</em>, I can see this caught your attention,” the dark-haired man mocked in a scornful torn, his thin, wormy lips curling upwards in a truly devilish little smirk. “I thought this little trick of mine might catch your eye, boy. I’ve been meaning to…share in a dialogue with you, and I thought she was the best way to get you to come down. I can see that I was <em>right</em>.” He chuckled gleefully. “Do you truly believe that my ward <em>cares</em> for you, boy?”</p><p>The dark-haired stranger’s voice and his twisted appearance were <em>nothing</em> compared to the coldness of his voice. If it was at all possible, his voice was frightening.</p><p>“She <em>IS</em> what you seek, is it not, you ungrateful cur? Then, you may take her…for a <em>price</em>, bell ringer,” he said.</p><p>Quasi could never in his life have ever imagined someone could be so cruel. Yet the proof was in front of him. He did not know what hellish torment Madellaine had suffered—<em>was</em> suffering—at the hands of this man. Unable to breathe, his jaw hanging open in shock and horror, he turned questioning, pleading eyes to her master, and realized this was exactly what the man had done to his dear friend.</p><p>“<em>Y—you killed her</em>!” he bellowed. “<strong>WHY</strong>?”</p><p>The man who had murdered his friend turned his head coolly to regard him in a slow, methodical manner, and the vengeful glower on his angular face chilled the blood in his veins.</p><p>“Did you really think I did not <em>know</em>, boy? I know who you <em>are</em>. <em>What</em> you are,” he emphasized. “I have spies <em>everywhere</em>. This was the only way to get you to come out. Nothing happens regarding <em>her</em> that I don’t know about it, boy, and now that I have you right where I want you, please, allow me to introduce myself. I haven’t forgotten my manners, even to a wretch like you. My name is Sarousch, though you may call me by the title of ‘<em>Master</em>’ if you want the girl back <em>alive</em> and <em>unharmed</em>, though you’re on borrowed time. My little <em>trick</em> won’t last much longer, and then she’ll be <em>dead</em>,” the dark-haired he-stranger scoffed, sneering at him through the darkness.</p><p>Quasi knew then that this stranger, whoever he was, meant to complete that which he feared, because of him. His plan was to kill the blonde right in front of him if he did not cooperate with this man’s strange demands. He had no time at all to feel his heart soar at the woman with who he feared he was falling in love, nor to feel it warm at the thought that maybe she’d be alright.</p><p>Quasi’s heart threatened to explode from his chest as he watched Madellaine’s torment. She did not speak, or perhaps she was not able to anymore, and her now wholly blackened eyes, even the whites of her eyes were black, displayed no emotion of any kind, though the occasional whimper and pitiful pain-filled mewl suggested that she still felt pain.</p><p>Quasi felt his entire body start to violently shake, staring right at the man who had murdered his dear friend, his burning, darkening cerulean eyes locked on his black ones. 

There was a wrinkle in Quasi’s nose that had nothing to do with a coming sneeze, his muscles seizing up with tension, his jaw clenched tight, his gloved hands balled into shaking fists at his side. His fists moved as his face contorted into a pained expression the bell ringer never wore before.</p><p>The ungodly scream that pierced the night air was so unholy, it caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand upright and goosebumps to break out along his flesh.</p><p>There was a scream of the mouth and lungs and a scream of the eyes and soul in a human being, though this was the kind of scream that bypassed the ears and spoke straight to the heart. It took Quasi a second or two to realize the unholy noise had erupted forth from <em>his</em> chest.</p><p>Quasi roared in anger, more a monster than he had ever been before. 

For just a brief second, a moment too fleeting, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of fear dart across the man’s blackened eyes. He could stand here as a witness to Madellaine’s suffering and torment no longer.</p><p>He would kill this bastard right here on the front steps of Notre Dame herself, his own wretched soul be damned (though he was already damned, the demon that he was, so he supposed his own eternal soul didn’t matter) before allowing Madellaine even a second more of anguish.</p><p>This stranger was going to have to kill him to stop him. He had better hope he was able to kill him at this point. Blood was in his eyes and his own purpose was somehow getting Madellaine out of this man’s clutches and figuring out a way to undo the damage that had been done.</p><p>If she was even still <em>alive</em>. 

In a flash of a reflexive moment so fast that the red-haired young man was almost a blur, Quasi bounded down the steps two at a time and violently wrenched the length of chain from his grasp.</p><p>“Move away from us, <em>now</em>, or I’ll wring your neck in half and beat you within an inch of your life until your brain matter stains these very steps,” he ordered angrily as the man stood fast in place, giving a harsh yank on the manacles that held Madellaine’s wrist firmly in place. He inwardly winced as the young blonde staggered numbly forward, though the husk of his former friend made no sign to cry out at all.</p><p>The dark-haired stranger opened his mouth to speak, though before the cloaked figure could take a step forward, he was halted in his movements by the sound of footsteps coming from behind and cringed as he felt the unmistakable tip of a Roman steel sword dig into his spine.</p><p>Sarousch silently seethed, wondering who in the hell would dare have the audacity to ruin his wondrous plans. 

Quasi instinctively folded his arms around Madellaine’s middle, resting his chin on her shoulder, taking in the sight of how her very skin was cracked and bruised, her short blonde hair stiff and coarse, a fresh plastering of red around her windburned, angry lips.</p><p>“What do <em>you</em> want?” Sarousch snarled to this new stranger who had more or less stunned them into silence. His threatening tone spurred merely a quiet shrug from the tall, broad figure, undoubtedly a man by given how stocky he looked, though the features of his face were concealed by the hood of his thick black traveling robes.</p><p>When the cloaked figure spoke, it was with a husky voice coming from a man of wizened years, hoarse yet acrid and filled with abhorrence for the man in front. 

“Is it <em>true</em>?” he asked in a gravelly, rough voice. “Madellaine de Barreau is here in Paris?” he questioned.</p><p>Sarousch froze, wondering who in God’s green earth could have possibly come looking for his best pickpocket, his little trinket, that he was not to give up easily without a fight.</p><p>“What does it matter to you?” he challenged hotly.</p><p>The man scoffed. “So, it <em>is</em> true then. This is <em>her</em>?” he regarded towards the young blonde on the verge of bleeding out if Quasi couldn’t get her medical help and fast, though the bell ringer stayed frozen to his spot, helpless and too shellshocked to even move or think at all.</p><p>Sarousch’s teeth clenched. From his side appeared the blond-haired captain of the guard, wielding his sword, though his tanned face paled in shock and surprise upon his eyes bearing witness to the fact that someone, a stranger, had already beaten him to his intended purpose. “Why do you want her?” he growled in a low, threatening voice.</p><p>“Oh, <em>her</em>?” the black-cloaked stranger remarked in a voice that for a moment sounded as if he’d almost forgotten. Though Quasi could see the man’s eyes beneath his hood, he could feel his stare boring a hole right through him and straight to his heart, chilling his blood to ice.</p><p>It was a moment before the man spoke again.</p><p>“She is of no concern to you, monsieur. Not anymore,” he spat through gritted teeth. Quasi was holding onto Madellaine by her waist as the other man finished talking. She almost melted limply in his arms, fading fast, but he had only in his mind right now ridding off another probable man who sought to do his friend more harm.</p><p>There was an unhinging effect to this cloaked man. He was tall and lean behind his covers and moved deftly, and Quasi was no soldier like Phoebus was, but he could tell this was a chap who was no mere ordinary wanderer who was now drawing even closer to where Quasi stood.</p><p>“I heard Madellaine de Barreau was seen in this very establishment cavorting about with the likes of a <em>monster</em>,” the stranger murmured as if muttering a secret to himself, and Quasi felt his blood go sour and his heart almost cease. “Now, I have never <em>seen</em> this rumored accursed wretch of a boy, but why do my guts tell me that it’s <em>you</em>, kid?”</p><p>Quasi’s fingers gripped painfully tight onto her waist as he held Madellaine in front of him, the young blonde’s body almost acting as a human shield. He had a distinct feeling in his gut if he was really after his friend, then this stranger, whoever he was, was not about to harm his girl.</p><p>“Who <em>are</em> you?” Quasi growled, unable to keep the note of fear from causing his warbling voice to falter and crack, practically breaking as he blinked back his tears.</p><p>The stranger finally pulled down the hood of his cloak, revealing a head of thick short shaggy dirty blond hair that was speckled with flecks of white at the temples. The man’s hardened, lean face lifted to meet Quasi’s questioning eyes with his own, almost instantly dissipating the strength from his knees.</p><p>Beside him, Phoebus turned pale in turmoil and looked like he was about to be sick as a startled shout of fear left his lips. “Jesus Christ, Mary, and Joseph, <em>save</em> us, Quasi, that’s—”</p><p>But the man made an odd noise at the back of his throat, cutting Phoebus off. “Oh, great. It is <em>you</em>, isn’t it? <em>Good</em>. Then my informant <em>wasn’t</em> mistaken, and I owe her ten farthings.”</p><p>The revealed man had not smiled once. Wisps of his hair fell around his head as his cloak went away as he shrugged out of it and let it fall to his feet in a heap. He wore the face of a warrior, scathed from pursuit and the chase of his enemies, but even as the years took its toll on his youth, his cold blue eyes that were so strikingly like Madellaine’s were utterly <em>burning</em> with a desire to kill.</p><p>Phoebus’s shocked voice rose around Quasi in hushed whispers, though what was being said, he couldn’t make any of it out. Even in such freezing night air like this, Quasi could feel the front and sides of his temples moisten as beads of sweat began to slick down the sides of his face.</p><p>Before them all was an outlaw of some kind, Quasi <em>knew</em> it.</p><p>A ranger, a warrior of old. He looked towards Quasi and sighed. “I suppose I ought to rip out your throat right here and now in favor of the <em>pig</em> that you once called <em>Father</em>, but in exchange for lessening the rather precarious predicament you find yourself in, I think you and I might actually have the chance for an alliance, bell ringer, don’t you think? And oh, since I assume you are quite taken with my <em>daughter</em>, and I presume that you and I will be sharing a <em>relative</em>…I think it only <em>fair</em> that you call me your <em>father-in-law</em>…”</p><p>And time stood still as the once-famed Lucien Barreau whirled Sarousch around on his heels, looked the ringmaster square in the eyes, and crushed his forehead in between Madellaine’s master’s eyes, an insane form of a greeting which sent the bastard down onto the ground with a broken nose and a bloodied grunt before Sarousch slipped into unconsciousness and fell into a deep slumber.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>28</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>QUASI</strong> barely had any time to react as the towering blond man who gave off an intimidating aura, Madellaine’s father, barreled towards Quasi and relieved Notre Dame’s bell ringer of the young blonde performer, holding his daughter gently to his chest as though his girl were made of the finest china. One wrong touch and she would shatter.</p>
<p>His heart plummeted to the pit of his churning stomach as the tall soldier’s head whiplashed sharply upward to regard the cathedral’s bell ringer, his teeth gnashed together in anger. His jaw locked in frustration.</p>
<p>“<em>You. What. Did. You. Do</em>. You <em>murderer</em>,” he spat in a raspy voice that was the physical embodiment of the grave. “You <em>dare</em> lay a hand against <em>my</em> <em>daughter</em>, you disgusting accursed <em>half</em>-<em>breed</em>?” Lucien de Barreau’s poisonous words fell from him, and each one felt like a stab to Quasi’s broken heart.</p>
<p>He did not know what to say nor how to react to these insults that were clearly intended to wound, and they had served their purpose. The older man’s lined face was creased with worry. He slowly ascended the steps in a calm and methodical manner, taking care not to jostle Madellaine’s unconscious form in his arms while doing so, and that act alone terrified the bell ringer. He looked out of the corner of his gaze towards Phoebus for help and saw the Sun God was just as petrified, his tanned face had gone completely ashen.</p>
<p>He’d get no help from Captain Phoebus here.</p>
<p>The former warlord and ranger Lucien de Barreau eyed Notre Dame’s bell ringer as though he were dirt on the bottom of his boot. “So, <em>bell</em> <em>ringer</em>,” he spat in disgust as he briefly glanced down at his dying daughter in his arms. “<em>You</em> did this?” he growled, his tone laced to the brim with rage. “Are <em>you</em> the one responsible for <em>this</em>?!?”</p>
<p>Quasimodo could feel the contempt in the soldier’s voice. He was sure that the older man was at least a little aware of what had transpired between himself and Lucien Barreau’s seemingly only living daughter. He swallowed hard and mindful of his even feigned courtesies, he bowed, though he felt awkward and wanted to say something about how pressed for time Madellaine was at the moment.</p>
<p>Though before he could speak, Lucien spoke up.</p>
<p>It was then that Quasi was able to see just how gaunt and drawn was the face of the former warlord and ranger. He now looked like a scared old man, hiding behind his posturing and blustering. He looked like he’d not slept. There were deep purple bags that clung under his eyes. Yes, the older Frenchman was exhausted. He was also looking more than a little annoyed at the bell ringer’s presence standing in front of him. His brow was creased with deep lines.</p>
<p>“<em>You’re</em> the one my daughter cares for.”</p>
<p>It did not escape Quasi’s attention that he spat the words more than spoke them, with no small trace of disgust and contempt in his hardened tone for the hunchback.</p>
<p>Quasi’s desperation got the better of him at that moment.</p>
<p>“Please,” he begged, hearing himself plead with the older man who looked as though he’d like nothing more than to run him through with his sword where he stood. He was unused to begging now that Master Frollo was dead and gone from his life, but he was just short of falling in a crumpled heap at the man’s boots and groveling.</p>
<p>He would do whatever was required of him if there was but a slim chance Madellaine’s life could be saved.</p>
<p>“I know that I have <em>no</em> <em>right</em> to believe that she would want to be with…me, but…I…I did not mean…<em>this</em>,” he stammered, his voice cracking as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rid his mind of the horrifying image of Madellaine’s ashen complexion and black, listless eyes that reminded him of the pits of Tartarus.</p>
<p>He growled to himself, shaking his head vehemently back and forth, trying to convey as best as he was able to Madellaine’s father that no, he’d had no part in this, but before he could, Sister Alice, God bless her soul, took a cautious step forward and planted herself firmly in between Lucien and Quasi, not letting the older man get within a foot of the younger man whom she very much considered like a son to her.</p>
<p>Alice Beaumont huffed in a frustrated agitation as she tossed her wavy greying hair off her shoulders and put her hands on her hips. At age fifty, she was still what Phoebus would call ‘quite a looker,’ and she knew it too and frequently used such a fact to her advantage where it counted. Now seemed to be one of those times to need it.</p>
<p>Madellaine’s father could hold in his wrath no longer. “<em>You</em> are the <em>last</em> person she needs to see right now, boy! It’s because of <strong>YOU</strong> that <strong>MY DAUGHTER</strong> is <em>dead</em>!”</p>
<p>Every word spat at him stung, adding another layer of salt onto the already tender wound that was his broken heart. Before Quasi could implore the seething grieving father again, Alice’s arm flung out in front of Quasi, preventing the distraught bell ringer from taking a step forward in the hopes of rectifying the situation and getting Madellaine medical help. If there was anything that could be done to fix this.</p>
<p>Alice took another step forward, the hem of her brown monk’s habit that she’d swiped from Brother Paul swishing as she shuffled forward, her expression guarded but eerily calm. There was an uncharacteristically somber and slightly angered look in the pretty nun’s cobalt blue eyes that were so strikingly like Quasi’s own eyes.</p>
<p>“My <em>dear</em> old <em>friend</em>,” Alice intervened, taking another step, and placing a firm hand on the ranger’s shoulder. “This is <em>not</em> the time nor the place for such confrontations. I don’t think I need to be the one to tell you that your daughter is gravely injured. If you cannot control your anger in front of Holy Ground, then we’re going to have a <em>problem</em>, and you <em>don’t</em> want that, Luc.”</p>
<p>Phoebus grunted wordlessly in response to the term of endearment the pretty nun bestowed upon Madellaine’s father.</p>
<p>His hazel eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion as he took in the sight of a silent exchange that passed between the ranger and nun of Notre Dame.</p>
<p>He couldn’t be sure, but he swore there was a flicker of something unreadable in his former commander’s burning blue eyes, an emotion akin to almost affection for Alice Beaumont, but whatever it was, the Captain of the Guard had no time to dwell on it as it had gone, and a shadow flitted over the man’s features.</p>
<p>Lucien turned his head to the side and spat on the ground, a visible show of his contempt for the bell ringer.</p>
<p>“<em>Spare</em> <em>me</em>, Alice. I was told you were <em>drunk</em>, impertinent, and thoroughly divulged. You can imagine my current <em>disappointment</em> at seeing nothing but a browbeaten nun,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You <em>dare</em> berate me. You have <em>no</em> children, you’ve <em>no</em> <em>idea</em> what this is like. My daughter has been <em>killed</em>!” he snarled. He shifted his daughter’s figure in his arms, pointing a shaking finger in the bell ringer’s direction, who shirked away from the man’s piercing cold stare. “That wretched abomin—”</p>
<p>“<em>Saved her life</em>, monsieur,” Alice interjected firmly, peering coldly through the darkness at her former friend. “Now if you are quite finished making a spectacle of yourself, your own daughter’s very lifeforce hangs in the balance, and we must get her inside and do what we can.”</p>
<p>She swallowed and peered down her slender nose at the young blonde. Alice’s face paled and she blanched, reeling backward on the heels of her boots at the sight of the blank expression on the youthful blonde’s face, and especially at the black, sunken eye sockets, now empty. “Save us all,” Alice murmured, squeezing her eyes shut and making the sign of the Hail Mary across her heart. “Is there <em>nothing</em> that can be done for her, Lucien? What—this—this is witchcraft of the highest order, surely, but someone did this to her. I—if someone did, could they take it away too?” she breathed, as her light blue eyes widened in shock and surprise as she looked at Lucien.</p>
<p>Phoebus took that as his sign to interject, stepping forward, keeping his right hand on the hilt of his sword in its scabbard which rested on his waist.</p>
<p>“The one person who <em>could</em> tell us, monsieur, you, ah, knocked him unconscious and broke his nose. I <em>think</em>,” he added, almost as an afterthought as he strode towards Sarousch’s unconscious form and kicked at his left arm with his boot. “He’ll be out for a bit, the mental bit unless we can wake him up,” he muttered darkly, working quickly to bind Sarousch’s wrists together with a length of rope he carried.</p>
<p>“<em>Do</em> it, Phoebus, I don't give a damn what it takes, if anyone can wheedle information out of him, it’s you, kid,” barked Lucien hoarsely. “What are <em>dungeons</em> built for, boy? Take him to the Palace of Justice. I’ll be along as soon as I see she’s settled. A fitting name for it, don’t you think? <em>Justice</em>. I can’t think of another word more loved by the people, it does have a nice ring to it. However, Phoebus, without ever exercising your own strength, you seek death at the hands of someone else. <em>Well</em>. The justice you refer to smells pretty <em>rotten</em> to me. The stench of a <em>bloodbath</em>. One we’ll give him. He’ll talk, or we’ll make short bloody work of his fingers, one by one, he’ll start losing appendages until there’s nothing left of him to even bury. I’m not even sure the crows and ravens will want his remains by the time we’re finished,” he whisper hissed through gritted teeth as he sheathed his weapon and began to climb the front steps of Notre Dame two at a time until he stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Quasi.</p>
<p>Quasi shivered with gritted teeth, Madellaine’s father’s cold words devoid of warmth sending a chill down his spine. He winced under a venomous glower from the ranger as her father shot him a truly scathing look seething with hatred, though Alice’s voice interrupted the moment.</p>
<p>“Bring her inside. Let’s get her upstairs to the north bell tower first, she’ll be warmer up there and more comfortable,” Alice snapped in a commanding tone firmly, although the nun was looking visibly shaken as she looked at Madellaine in Lucien’s strong arms. “Try not to move her too much, Lucien, or she’ll go into shock. Keep a firm hand on her right ribcage, she’s lost a lot of blood, dearie.”</p>
<p>Lucien’s jaw tensed as he shot Alice a glowering stare as he had to jog to keep up with the nun’s lengthy strides.</p>
<p>“I would <em>never</em> harm my little girl, Alice! I did not bloody traipse all of Europe for these last ten years trying to find her! <em>Ten</em> <em>years</em> I devoted to finding my daughter, I made a promise to my wife that I would find our Lena, and now that I’ve found her, I’m <em>not</em> letting her go that easily, Alice!” he growled in a tone that suggested he was utterly offended. “That <em>bastard</em> I’m sure is the same one who kidnapped her from us, left us for dead in the streets.”</p>
<p>Alice peered back over her shoulder in the midst of climbing the stairwell steps, Quasi trailing closely behind, to shoot Madellaine’s father a look of minor annoyance. “I <em>know</em> that, Lucien, but we don’t know how badly she’s wounded. It might actually be <em>worse</em> than it looks, but we shan’t know for sure until whoever can fix her comes.”</p>
<p>Lucien grunted by way of response though he offered the nun a slight dip of his head to acknowledge he had at least heard her words and was processing them.</p>
<p>Quasi halted in his steps when he reached the top of the ladder to the mezzanine. He’d never felt like a stranger here in the cathedral, but for the first time, as he watched Lucien carry Madellaine towards his sleeping nook while Alice barked instructions in the older man’s ear, he felt out of place here, like he did not belong, like he didn’t understand. Knowing that he was the cause behind all this.</p>
<p>Alice’s voice rang in his eardrums as she shouted something to Lucien. “No! Not <em>those</em>! The other ones!” she snapped, sounding utterly exasperated and stressed beyond belief as Quasi briefly caught a flash of white and gold as Lucien rummaged through the shelves for a basin. “Wash the instruments first and <em>then</em> boil them, Lucien.”</p>
<p>Quasi felt his legs move of their own accord towards his sleeping nook and drew back the curtain. He didn’t nearly look, but in the end, he refused to revert his gaze or leave his friend’s side. He knew later he would never forgive himself for being such a coward to not even see Madellaine and as a result, see the damage that he himself had caused.</p>
<p>He wasn’t even aware his face was white as a sheet as he looked blankly towards the sight of the young blonde resting on his cot, a pile of blankets piled overtop her while Alice tried to do what she could to keep Madellaine comfortable. Try as he might, he was unable to tear his gaze away from the horrible view of Madellaine lying there, her blackened eyes staring at the ceiling, at nothing, seemingly lifeless. For all he knew, she was already dead.</p>
<p>Quasi looked towards Alice desperately, his blue eyes laced to the brim with pleading. “Save her, Alice. Please.” He implored. Alice swallowed a lump in her throat.</p>
<p>She could not summon strength enough on her throat to manage an adequate answer for the bell ringer. It was clear that their infamous boy was very much in love with the lady circus performer. All Alice could do was nod her head and pray that the poor girl would pull through. In truth, she had no idea how to fix this.</p>
<p>This was dark magic of the worst kind. Evil magic. One from which there may be no coming back from for the girl, but Alice did not wish to give him false hope where there was none.</p>
<p>“Quasi…” she started to say, her voice hesitant. She paused, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. “You need to wait outside, dear. I don’t think the poor child would want you to see her like this, boy, and I’ve not the time to argue with you. You need to get out. Right now. I <em>understand</em> your concern, really, I <em>do</em>, but the best thing you can do for us all right now is to leave this place. Get some air, go take a walk, and maybe let the others know. Find Esmeralda if you can and tell her what’s happened.”</p>
<p>Quasi bristled at the very idea and scowled a warning at the pretty nun. But before he could take a step forward, Phoebus, still dragging Sarousch along with him, who had regained a small sliver of consciousness, but just barely, seized Quasi by his forearm and dragged the man away.</p>
<p>Quasi fought him the whole way, to no avail. “Ngh—let <em>go</em> of me, Phoebus! I—<em>I need to stay with her</em>!” he shouted, turning the worst of his wrath on the Sun God.</p>
<p>Understanding his friends’ hostile behavior, Phoebus did his best to calm Quasi down as he dragged him and Sarousch back down the stairwell and out onto the steps.</p>
<p>“You need to let her be. Give her space, boy. You would only make things worse for Madellaine. Whoever can fix what’s been done to her might need all the space in your tower. No. Alice is right. She’d not want you to see her like this, it’s best for you now to come with me. She knows that you’re here. I think she can feel it.”</p>
<p>Phoebus tried to comfort him. With no way of watching over Madellaine and no one upon which to release his anger, Quasi turned away from Phoebus and let loose his pent-up fury over the last almost two months on the battered stone cathedral wall. Clenching his gloved fist and letting out a furiously long, agonized yell, he slammed his knuckles repeatedly into the unmoving frozen stones. His skin shredded against the rough masonry, but he felt no pain at the moment, despite the blood seeping its way through the leather hide material of his gloves and down his wrists. His mind was so focused on Madellaine and the hellish ordeal of whatever Sarousch put him through. His current injury was nothing compared to what his friend was currently going through upstairs as she fought to cling to what little shred of life within her breast.</p>
<p>Phoebus stood at the bottommost step with the bound and chained Sarousch, patiently giving him this release. When there was no more air left in his lungs to scream and no effort left in his muscles, Quasi collapsed to the stones against the wall, exhausted, terrified, and hurting.</p>
<p>Phoebus waited a moment before speaking. “Madellaine’s in good hands, Quasi, <em>trust</em> <em>me</em>,” he encouraged in a falsely bright voice that even he knew sounded strained.</p>
<p>Quasi blearily lifted his head and tried to focus his gaze more than a few feet in front of himself as he craned his neck upward from where he sat on the ground to look at Captain de Chateaupers. He warily eyed Phoebus, remembering Alice Beaumont’s abrasive and sometimes clumsy ways when he’d first met the pretty nun all those years ago.</p>
<p>Phoebus shrugged, conceding a little bit to him.</p>
<p>“Look, she may be a shit nun, but she’s an excellent Healer. If anyone can see Madellaine through this, she can. Now come. This piece of filth,” he growled through gritted teeth as he gave the chains bounding and chafing Sarousch’s wrists together, “has a dungeon cell with his name on it. And he’s going to tell me what he knows.”</p>
<p>Quasi shivered at the cold, almost blasé way the soldier boy of Esmeralda’s spoke so casually of torture, though as he made to follow in Phoebus’s footsteps, he was surprised when Phoebus shot out an arm and stopped him.</p>
<p>“<em>What</em>?” he barked, running a hand over his drawn, worried face.  He was <em>not</em> in a patient mood, and so help Phoebus if this was a <em>trick</em>. He raised his tear-filled eyes to the night sky above, remembering every wonderful moment he’d ever spent with Madellaine de Barreau, wishing he could have it back. He would take back his words when they’d argued.</p>
<p>He knew that if this day ended without her by his side, then he would follow her to Heaven by his own hand. As the gruesome, dark thought left his tormented mind, he was broken out of the tempest of his own mind by Phoebus’s gruff voice. “Wrong way, boy. I go this way. You go that way. You’re going in the wrong direction…”</p>
<p>“What?” Quasi exclaimed sourly, not quite getting it. What in the seven bloody hells was he talking about? “Are you perhaps short of a marble, Phoebus?” he bellowed, stomping his foot as a visible show of frustration. “Do you take me to be a <em>fool</em>? Of course, I’m going the right way. The Palace of Justice is <em>this</em> way,” he snarled.</p>
<p>Phoebus looked at Quasimodo, his hazel eyes heavy. Taking a deep breath of chilly air, he delivered the news. “Well, yes, you’re correct. The Palace of Justice <em>is</em> this way, Quasi, but you’re not coming with me, my friend.” He reported, a wry little smile finding his cheeks.</p>
<p>Quasi felt what little color was left in his pallid complexion drain as he gaped open-mouthed at Phoebus. Had the Sun God finally lost his damned mind? Was that it?</p>
<p>“You’re joking,” he growled, hardly daring to believe the turn this had taken. “I’m coming with you.”</p>
<p>“No, you’re not,” Phoebus repeated patiently, though a hint of annoyance had started to seep through the undertones of his voice. “What Lucien and I intend to do to Sarousch is not for someone the likes of <em>you</em>, boy. We don’t want you seeing something like…like <em>that</em>,” he growled, a dark shadow flitting across his handsome features. “War is a messy business. I’d really rather not, but it seems tonight we’ve no other choice. You have got an innocence about you, a purity that, despite your hardships in this life, you’ve managed to maintain. I honestly don’t know how you do it,” he chuckled wryly, his hazel eyes getting a faraway glint. “But I’ve always admired that about you, my friend. It’s an envious trait to have, and it’s one that I know Madellaine cherishes in you. T’would be a <em>shame</em> to see it dissipate and deplete in you. That’s why you’re <em>not</em> going. You’re going <em>that</em> way, Quasimodo…”</p>
<p>He smirked a little, the edges of his thin lips curling upward into a soft smile that made the edges of his beard twitch without prompting as he turned his back on Quasi. “It’s not your fault, you know,” Phoebus called out, pausing mid-step, though he did not turn around to look his younger friend in the eye. “Nobody blames you, Quasi. Least of all I don’t think Madellaine does, my friend. Were she here, she would want you to be strong, and I think she would tell you the same thing. Don’t worry about this one,” he said curtly, giving Sarousch’s manacles a harsh tug. “He’ll be…taken care of,” Phoebus said in a dismissive, airy tone. “I know of this one’s dealings, how he was the mastermind behind all of the thefts in town, and what a volatile character he is. Considering what he did to your friend, rest assured, this man has seen his last sunrise and sunset. He shan’t be bothering anyone again after tonight.”</p>
<p>Phoebus chuckled darkly to himself as he started to walk away, though was halted in his footsteps once again.</p>
<p>“Wait! Phoebus, wait!” Quasi called out, painfully twisting his gloved hands together, though he made no move to step forward or try to catch up with the Captain.</p>
<p>Phoebus patiently waited for him to collect his thoughts, though he already had a sense he knew what he was going to ask, and true enough, the boy asked it. He had sensed it before the words were even out of his mouth.</p>
<p>Quasi hesitated, biting the wall of his cheek. It took him a moment or two to find his words, and when he did speak again his voice was hoarse, but somehow, he was desperate enough to summon a question on his throat.</p>
<p>“If you’re going <em>that</em> way…then where am <em>I</em> going?”</p>
<p>This time, Phoebus really did turn around to face his friend. That smirk of the golden-haired Sun God’s brought out a sense of mischief, of innocent fun despite the turmoil and seriousness of the position that they all faced, and in that brief moment, however fleeting, it released the bell ringer. But the funny thing was, he had no idea that he’d ever been caged. His next words sent a chill through his blood, turning them to ice in his veins as Phoebus called after him as he turned back around to lead Sarousch away.</p>
<p>His words still followed after Quasi anyway, the further that Phoebus walked away from the bell ringer.</p>
<p>“To see Esmeralda.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>29</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>THE</strong> heaviness of their last argument weighed heavy on Esmeralda’s heart. Even now, days after, she felt guilty, remembering the poisonous words, words she never thought she would say to a kind-hearted soul like the bell ringer of the church, resonated within her mind.</p>
<p>She huffed in frustration as she absentmindedly stood by the banks of the River Seine, watching the ducks.</p>
<p>Esmeralda knew she did not want to immediately return home to her and Phoebus’s simple little hut the man had built for themselves on the outskirts of the city within the last year of her marriage, but nor did she particularly fancy traipsing back to the cathedral to try again in a fruitless attempt to get Quasi to see reason.</p>
<p>Though Fate, it would seem, that cruel bastard, had other plans in mind for the young Romani woman.</p>
<p>“<em>Esmeralda</em>!” came the unmistakable frantic tone fraught with worry and concern of the bell ringer’s voice.</p>
<p><em>Oh, damn</em>, she thought, grinding her teeth, and turning around, her hand shot to her chest as she felt a strong calloused grip latch itself around her shoulder as if trying to stop her racing heart from bursting through her chest. She turned to see Quasi, practically heaving with fury, his nostrils flaring, though his blue eyes were concerned, filled to the brim with glistening, unshed moisture that Esmeralda knew to be brimming tears.</p>
<p>“<em>Goddamn</em> it, Quasi!” she stammered, a fiery heat creeping to her cheeks as her face flushed while she staggered backward away from the bell ringer, feeling quite flustered at the man’s unexpected experience. “You <em>scared</em> me! Don’t—don’t do that again!” she glowered.</p>
<p>Quasimodo shot her a withering look, looking like he still had something he wanted to say, but thought better of it. “M—Madellaine, she—she’s been <em>hurt</em>, P—Phoebus, h—he sent me to fetch you. Sh—she’s been stabbed, a—and her master did something to her. Something evil, I—I don’t know, i—it might be magic,” he stammered, unmoving and going as rigid as a statue.</p>
<p>Esmeralda felt her blood turn to ice in her veins upon hearing the bell ringer’s words, though a dozen or so questions flitted through her mind, burning on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be asked for more information.</p>
<p>“How? Who did it? Where’s Phoebus? What’s going on?” she demanded, letting out a squeak as Quasi’s strong arm curled around her bicep as the stronger man began to almost drag the flustered young woman forward violently, heading back to the cathedral.</p>
<p>“N—no time to explain, b—but I—if you help her, my friend, th—then I <em>promise</em> to explain everything,” Quasi stammered, trying to shoot his friend an apologetic look, which seemed to only make Esmeralda even angrier.</p>
<p>Esmeralda pursed her lips into a thin line as they quickened their pace as she eyed the man indignantly and stomped her foot, a temporary release of her frustrations.</p>
<p>“Oh, so <em>this</em> is the thanks I get for sticking around. You know, after the way you spoke to me just the other day, I shouldn’t even <em>want</em> to be your friend anymore. <em>This</em> is the thanks I get for trying to salvage <em>your</em> mess?” she remarked with exaggerated hurt, thinking how she’d spent many last few sleepless weeks combing the streets and catacombs of Paris for any sign at all of Madellaine.</p>
<p>Esmeralda stiffened as she heard Quasi let out a low, almost threatening growl from deep within his chest as he rolled his eyes and turned to look at her. “<em>Saving</em> it, Esme, or <em>ruining</em> it?” he questioned, his tenor-like voice positively livid with blame as his blue eyes darkened considerably, almost cerulean in color as he looked at her.</p>
<p>“Humph.” Esmeralda huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “I would say you’ve done a fairly good job of the latter yourself <em>without</em> my help, my friend.” Esmeralda lowered her gaze as she looked at the red-haired young bell ringer, regarding Quasi spitefully.</p>
<p>She walked slowly and deliberately behind Quasi, purposefully stalling to give herself more time to think.</p>
<p>“I did what I had to!” Quasimodo bellowed, turning his head to stare daggers at La Esmeralda. “I protected Madellaine the only way that I could think of.” His voice cracked and fell with painful regret as he looked away.</p>
<p>Esmeralda stared incredulously at her friend, sighing as she contemplated his actions in the matter of his and the young blonde circus performer’s little lover’s quarrel. Maybe Quasi was correct in this regard, really.</p>
<p>Though she doubted it would have changed anything. Since their argument, there was no way of knowing for sure if Madellaine wanted Quasimodo back in her life, as her world had been shaken to its core ever since the traveling circus had dared to come to Paris.</p>
<p>Esmeralda had no wish to add to her friend’s pains, but she did wish to help her if the poor girl was injured.</p>
<p>Esmeralda needed a moment to give her thudding heart time to relax. Quasi, too, allowed his anger to cool before continuing. “<em>Please</em>, Esmeralda,” he begged, and by this point, there was more hurt in his voice than rage, sounding closer to the verge of a breakdown than before. “I—if you don’t do this for <em>me</em>, then do it for Madellaine.”</p>
<p>Esmeralda nodded mutely, feeling the color in her face drained. “Take me there, then. You and I still need to have a <em>talk</em>,” she snapped, with no small measure of contempt in her voice. “But her safety comes <em>first</em>. She’s my friend as much as yours.”</p>
<p>Quasi nodded in return, yanking on her arm and pulling her forward as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She was given little to no time to react at all as they reached the cathedral. She reluctantly allowed herself to be more or less dragged up the north tower stairwell.</p>
<p>By the time the pair of feuding friends reached the top, her lungs burned for the biting cold air around her, but she had no time to dwell on her own discomfort.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>no</em>, no, <em>no</em>, you didn’t say it was…<em>this</em>, Quasi,” she moaned, her face paling and turning a sickly greyish tinge as Quasi flung back the curtain of his sleeping nook with such force, the damned thing almost fell off the rack. Her friend did not look well at all. She looked like Death. Esmeralda rushed to the girl’s side.</p>
<p>“B—but what <em>is</em>…<em>this</em>?” Quasi stammered, feeling his breaths catch in his throat as waves of nausea wracked his entire body until he thought he might get physically sick. Horribly, violently sick. It was Madellaine’s eyes.</p>
<p>Soulless, sunken-in pits of blackness, like the depths of Tartarus themselves, utterly lifeless. Esmeralda stared.</p>
<p>Her eyes frightened her, the whites of her eyes gone completely black. This was witchcraft at its finest, alright. She could combat it, but it was going to take time.</p>
<p>Esmeralda could see the worry and fear on Quasi’s face. It was obvious Madellaine was more to him than just a fellow friend, though whether he knew it remained to be seen, but she couldn’t let herself think about that right now. Esmeralda gritted her teeth and began to examine the wound in the young blonde’s side that had stained her simple green dress a sticky garish crimson, peering closely at the edges. As Esmeralda began to pull off the fabric of her dress, unsheathing her knife she wore around her waist,</p>
<p>Madellaine shuddered and groaned as if it caused her great pain.</p>
<p>“Good, my friend, you’re still in there, hang on a little while longer, I’ll save you, I’ll try what I can to get this <em>démone</em> out of you,” she whispered. Quasi stiffened behind her and gave Esmeralda an almost threatening look, silently warning her not to hurt Madellaine or else.</p>
<p>Sister Alice nudged her way into the room past Quasimodo, carrying a dark bottle and a rag. She didn’t hesitate to pour some clear liquid onto the cloth and held it for a few seconds over Madellaine’s nose and mouth. She relaxed and merely appeared to be sleeping, which would make Esmeralda’s work easier.</p>
<p>“Who packed her wound?” Esmeralda asked.</p>
<p>A broad, stocky blond man with dirty blond hair, a hardened face, and burning blue eyes stepped forward. Her eyes. There was no mistaking that hue of blue. <em>Her father</em>, Esmeralda surmised wildly.</p>
<p>“I did,” Lucien de Barreau admitted, his face strained in worry.</p>
<p>Esmeralda nodded, finishing her inspection of Madellaine’s immediate medical needs, moving around the simple cot to face the worried father and her distraught friend, and clamped Lucien on the shoulder, squeezing it.</p>
<p>“You may have just saved your daughter’s life, monsieur, and made my job easier,” she declared approvingly.</p>
<p>She watched as a flicker of emotion darted across the bell ringer’s slight misshapen features for a moment. He appeared relieved, but then his worry returned as he looked towards her, seemingly willing to cast aside all his pride and their grievances for now.</p>
<p>“Save her, Esmeralda. <em>Please</em>,” he begged, in tears. Esmeralda parted her lips to try to speak, though nothing was coming out. She couldn’t even bloody speak a phrase.</p>
<p>It was clear to her and maybe even the girl’s father that Notre Dame’s bell ringer was very much in love with the blonde circus performer. All Esmeralda could do was nod her head and pray that she would pull the corruption and wickedness from her friend.</p>
<p>“God forgive me,” she murmured, making the sign of the Hail Mary over her heart, “But I’m going to have to…use a little <em>magic</em> of my own. Will that be a <em>problem</em> with y—<em>your</em> <em>God</em>?” she whispered in a faint voice, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she looked toward Quasi, hardly daring to believe she was having this conversation on Holy Ground.</p>
<p>“Do whatever you have to, <em>God</em> can’t save her from this, Esmeralda, only <em>you</em> can,” Quasi barked in an unnaturally harsh voice, cold and listless that made Esmeralda shudder, though she nodded as there was no time to lose. Esmeralda turned away from her friend and Madellaine’s father, grabbing the necessary instruments that had appeared at her elbow that Sister Alice laid out.</p>
<p>She exhaled a shaking breath and began cutting an incision between Madellaine’s ribs.  Before she could address the much bigger problem that she suspected was causing the poor girl’s eyes to turn completely black, first, she had to ensure the wound at her side was treated.</p>
<p>Otherwise, to use some of her own magic and what she did know of exorcisms if this were what she suspected it to be would prove futile if the girl had no strength left in her to fight. Surgery first, and then she would take care of whatever dark entity was currently possessing her friend.</p>
<p>Quasi steeled himself, planning to remain at Madellaine’s side come hell or high water, through the surgery and whatever Esmeralda had to do afterward, but within moments, both the bell ringer and Madellaine’s careworn father were nudged out of the way by Alice hurrying to comply with Esmeralda’s temporary commands.</p>
<p>Suddenly, there was barely any room in Quasi’s sleeping nook for the soldier and the hunchback to stand flush against the walls. Quasi could barely see her as Esmeralda purposefully snuffed out one of the candles.</p>
<p>“<em>Please</em>,” Esmeralda requested. “I will need to have <em>both</em> of you wait outside. This is nothing for the likes of you, I don’t want you to see what I have to do, and you…things might get <em>ugly</em>,” she whispered shakily. “I require the space to work and heal her in private, Quasi.”</p>
<p>Quasi bristled and scowled a warning at his friend with whom he was still very much in hot water, but before he could take one half-step forward towards his cot to take his place at Madellaine’s side, it was Lucien’s strong grip that tempered him from doing it as his calloused fingers wound around his forearm and yanked him back with surprising strength for one so old, though the young bell ringer fought the man the entire way.</p>
<p>“I need to stay with her!” He turned on Lucien.</p>
<p>Understanding the wretch’s hostility, Lucien de Barreau did his best to calm the hunchback. As it so happened, he wished to have a <em>word</em> or two with this strange-looking creature with whom he’d not wanted to believe the rumors that his flesh and blood was captivated by, but the proof was now standing right in front of him.</p>
<p>“You need to let them <em>work</em>, boy,” Lucien answered in a low growl, his blue eyes flashing dangerously, rivaling that of a coat of armor as Quasi swore in the dim light his blue eyes took on an almost greyish twinkle.</p>
<p>“B—but I want her to know I’m here,” Quasi pleaded, his face pained as it twisted and contorted with grief. Lucien merely grunted and turned away in response, though after a moment, he gave an answer.</p>
<p>“She knows,” he grunted gruffly as he did his best to comfort the demonic creature that lived in this holy place. <em>Strange</em>, Lucien thought as he looked around the humble abode in which the monster made his dwelling.</p>
<p><em>Strange that a monster could live in such a place so close to the heavens</em>, Lucien thought as he bit down on his tongue.</p>
<p>“<em>Come</em>,” Madellaine’s father barked in his gruff voice as he motioned with a wave of his arm to usher the younger boy away from his little sleeping corner. He almost snorted at that. His own house was bigger than this dusty place that smelled dank and of wood and polish.</p>
<p>Quasimodo bristled, still feeling shocked and rooted to his place on the floor. He was not used to being told to do, much less within the confines of his own dwelling space. The last time Quasi had taken an order was from Frollo. He shoved down the annoyance flaring within. This was Madellaine’s <em>father</em>, after all. He would have to learn to give this stranger in his home his accustomed authority that he had the rights to, as her parent. They walked in silence out towards the balcony.</p>
<p>Lucien de Barreau’s movements were quick but methodical. Quasimodo hung back and waited, intently studying the older man’s every move, watching how the ranger surveyed the perimeter around him as if searching for more danger to pop out of the shadows.</p>
<p>Was it paranoia? Whatever was going on, Quasi got the feeling that Madellaine’s father was trying his best to seem imposing and ominous, perhaps to warn him or size him up, and the bell ringer hated to admit that it was <em>working</em>.</p>
<p>Quasi supposed he couldn’t blame the gentleman, though he was startled as Lucien swelled to his full height and girth as his head turned sharply to regard the boy. Quasi swallowed, not liking the darkening look in the older man’s eyes as the man made a quick scan of him.</p>
<p>He was much taller than Quasi, and Quasi was at his full height around 6’3, but Notre Dame’s bell ringer would pin this intimidating ranger had almost 6’9. Impressive height for such a soldier, Quasi thought.</p>
<p>This was bloody <em>it</em>, Lucien thought. He thought he’d figured out the wretch’s interest in his beloved daughter, that reminded him so of his Amelie at her age. He did his best to hold his anger in check but was losing the battle. The nerve of this insolent savage.</p>
<p>“<em>So</em>!” Lucien de Barreau’s hoarse voice like sandpaper resonated throughout the tower as he slammed the flat of his palm on the stone balustrade hard enough it would have made a normal man flinch away in pain and quite possibly suffer a broken finger or two, but not him. “I hear you’ve kept my daughter up in this <em>place</em>,” he spat the word like it was poison in his mouth, “like a <em>whore</em>.” The man was practically shaking with fury. “You are unwedded, perhaps she’s filled with your bastard demonic spawn, <em>wretch</em>, you accursed little whelp,” he condemned, his hand going instinctively to his sword.</p>
<p>Quasi instinctively curled his gloved hands into shaking fists at his side. Madellaine’s father or not, he didn’t give a damn who this man was, how dare he scorns his own friend, his <em>daughter</em> when her life hung in the balance.</p>
<p>“How <em>dare</em> you!” he shouted, forgetting proper edict around the man for a moment. “You would speak of your own flesh and blood in such a despicable way?” His blue eyes flashed and darkened, burning for revenge. “I would never—n—<em>never</em> do that to Madelaine, sh—she…” He was so <em>furious</em> he had to keep his fists clenched to avoid striking out against Madellaine’s father in anger. He'd not felt this burning rage course through his veins since the night Frollo attempted to siege his home and tried to kill Esmeralda.</p>
<p>Lucien rested his back against the balustrade’s railing and regarded the strange creature of these towers who kept to himself, stroking his closely cropped shadow of a beard with one hand. No one had ever dared to speak to him that way. Men fell before them and lost their tongues or other parts of their bodies that they valued, trembling at his anger, and the women knew better.</p>
<p>This <em>wretch</em>, this <em>boy</em>, this hunchback of Notre Dame, such a strange creature and only half a man, was the only one courageous enough and crazy enough besides, to dare to talk back to him and challenge him. His protectiveness of Madellaine confirmed to the ranger and former warlord how much he loved her. Though he would be the first to admit he would never approve of such a man in this day and age, he could not deny that all he wanted was for his little girl to be happy.</p>
<p>But…that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the wretch <em>suffer</em> a little bit first, just to watch the boy sweat bricks. For his own amusement.</p>
<p>Lucien de Barreau raised his eyebrows and stroked his beard, considering the unique situation he found himself in, and that he was about to place the boy in as well.</p>
<p>“You hold out for her,” he sighed, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose that looked like it had been broken a time or two in times long past with his thumb and forefinger. “You hold out for a union that the world would <em>never</em> approve of.” Quasi felt all the blood drain from his face. Oh, <em>God</em>, how on Earth had he let this happen now?</p>
<p>Somehow, Lucien <em>knew</em>. What methods, what tricks the ranger might have used to discern the truth, the bell ringer did not know, but it was evident by the sheen in the man’s burning blue eyes, that he knew the truth. Madellaine’s father knew he was in love with her. Raw panic clawed its way up to his throat, rendering his heart feeling like it was about to leap out of his throat, causing swat to break out above his misshapen and crooked browbone and slide down the sides of his temples.</p>
<p>His hands within his gloves had also started to sweat and turned clammy. He had to find a way out of this. Talk his way out, though when he tried, all that came out was a bunch of strangled attempts at speech.</p>
<p>“You’re in <em>love</em> with my <em>daughter</em>, aren’t you, spawn?” Lucien pressed, bracing the palms of his hands against the railing, leaning back in a casual, relaxed swagger that would have put Phoebus’s posture to shame as he folded one leg over the other, pinning the boy with his icy gaze.</p>
<p>Quasi could not budge, could not speak, much less form a coherent thought as his mouth hung open slack-jawed. He was sure he looked like a fish like this, but he felt like he was having a heart attack or a panic attack.</p>
<p>Either one seemed plausible enough, given his paralyzed state. Lucien sighed, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips, and continued speaking, eager to get to the point.</p>
<p>“You’re in love with Madellaine. <em>Aren’t</em> you, boy?” he growled, leaning forward, and pinning him again with that listless icy blue stare that Quasi didn’t know what to make of, but he knew the man demanded an answer.</p>
<p>Right now. Or he was about to be in a spot of trouble, judging by the way the ranger was looking at him.</p>
<p> Very. <em>Big</em>. Trouble.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Got him, Lucien! XD I do love her dad, he's growing on me as a character. Gruff and rough-around-the-edges, but a teddy bear inside. Coming up ought to be a fun chapter, Quasi and Lucien finish their chat and Esmeralda uses forbidden blood magic to summon  enough strength to talk to the dark forces currently controlling our favorite fair-haired circus performer</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Much apologies to my lovely readers who were patiently waiting for the next update. I didn't really intend to turn Madellaine into a 'husk' but considering it's Disney and Disney loves their Dark Magic moments, I thought why not! So I had to take a couple of days to figure out where the story was going to go from here. I was gonna start off with a Quasi POV, but I decided to switch at the last minute and do Esmeralda instead, as I want to keep his thoughts a mystery for now, though I'm sure we can all judge what he's thinking based on previous chapters! :) I truly love Mercedesz Csampai's portrayal of Esmeralda in the musical, and I had a lot of fun writing this chapter as I keep trying to come up with innovative ways to include Esmeralda in more key scenes, and wanted her to kind of have a badass moment of her own. She's no priest, but I'd say she handled this with grace and tact, as best as she could, and Madellaine is lucky to have a good friend like Esme in her life. We all need an Esme in our lives, don't we? Anyways, enough rambling, on with the show, and hope you enjoy it! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>30</strong>
</p><p><strong>ESMERALDA </strong>felt her blood in her veins surge through her system, coursing through her body hotter than any dragon could ever flame or pyre could burn. As she hovered over Madellaine’s unresponsive body, her mind melted back to the first instance she’d gotten a good look at her friend, her first time seeing the young blonde circus performer in a few months. And now, her normally pale sky-blue orbs were so dark.</p><p>It wasn’t even just the color that made them pitch-black, it was what lay underneath them. Pure evil and onslaught. The relative blankness seemed to the gypsy just a cover for the tumultuous sea of emotion the young wife of Phoebus de Chateaupers knew had to lie beneath the surface. It was just a matter of coaxing whatever or whoever was inhabiting her friend to come out. Squeezing her eyes shut to quell the wave of nausea that wracked her body, Esmeralda willed the racing of her heart to calm and her temper to cool.</p><p>She could not help her friend if she were already emotionally compromised before she’d even started.</p><p>Grinding her teeth in anger, Esmeralda worked quickly to roll up the sleeve of Madellaine’s ruined green dress and pulled the knife from her sheath she wore about her waist, and shot her dear friend a furtive, apologetic look. “God forgives me for what I must do,” she moaned, whispering her hushed prayer in a small, meek voice.</p><p>She peeked over her shoulder towards Sister Alice, who was resting on a stool in the corner of the boy’s sleeping nook, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Esmeralda surpassed she’d seen some things in her life, though the pretty nun was tougher than she looked. Good. She might need her help soon.</p><p>Alice spoke up as she drew the knife closer to the blonde’s wrist, piping up, her voice fraught with concern.</p><p>“What in <em>God’s</em> name are you <em>doing</em>, girl?!?” The pretty nun tried to reason with Esmeralda as she hovered over Madellaine’s unresponsive figure. “I—I can’t imagine what you think you can accomplish here, but I beg you to get away from that…<em>thing</em>. <em>Please</em>. Whoever Madellaine was before…this, she’s <em>gone</em>. I—I’m sorry, a—and I know you don’t want to hear it, dear, because she was your friend, and it’s going to break that boy’s heart, but I think your friend is <em>dead</em>.”</p><p>Alice’s heart sank in the worst-case scenario.</p><p>“I’m going to be just fine, Sister, I assure you,” Esmeralda promised, taking a moment to pull her dark hair back into a loose bun to be unencumbered while she worked. She gnashed her teeth together in her ire. “I appreciate your concern, Alice, truly I <em>do</em>. I know you care for Quasi like he’s your own son, but I need to concentrate, or else your boy brought me here for <em>nothing</em>.”</p><p>There was just a twinge of irritation in Esmeralda's husky tone as she turned away, bringing the knife closer to Madellaine’s wrist.</p><p>Alice shut her mouth by way of reply and breathed heavily through her flaring nostrils, her heart beating hard and audibly loud in her chest.</p><p>Esmeralda turned her head for a moment to compose herself before turning back to face Madellaine, who’d been propped against a mountain of pillows, though Esmeralda thought it would have been better if her father would have thought to hogtie her to a chair with a length of rope or even the same manacles that Phoebus had used to restrain Sarousch with earlier. But it was too late, so this would have to do.</p><p>Before her resolve and strength to save her friend could fail her, Esmeralda did not allow herself to second guess her actions as she swept the length of the blade across the skin of Madellaine’s palm, nicking it just enough to bleed. Working quickly, Esmeralda procured a tiny glass vial to catch a few droplets of the beaded crimson lifeforce before it could fall onto the wood planks of the bell tower’s sleeping room’s floor.</p><p>Esmeralda steeled herself, a muscle in her jaw twitching as her facial muscles hardened as she then worked without any semblance of hesitation to swipe the same blade across the soft skin of her right palm.</p><p>A sharp, stinging pain immediately stung and sent swells of pain shooting up and down her arm like white lightning, though Esmeralda forced herself to ignore, despite the spasmodic twitching of her hand.</p><p>“<em>Esmeralda</em>!” bellowed Sister Alice, sounding somewhere on the brink between being disgusted with what the young Romani was doing and transfixed. Her face had paled and had turned a sickly greyish tinge.</p><p>But Esmeralda forced herself to block out the startled yelps and slight whimpering of the nun, turning her attention on the only that mattered: <em>Lena</em>.</p><p>She blew out a puff of air with her cheeks as she held her palm over the small glass vial and allowed her blood to mix with Madellaine’s, jostling and tilting the vial in her hand a little to ensure the two life-forces mixed. Esmeralda heard Alice emit a gagging noise out of the back of her throat, though the nun did not retch.</p><p>Ignoring the nun, Esmeralda moved in two quick swift steps to cross the room and made a mad grab for a small wooden bowl and a mortar and pestle, pouring the blood into the basin and threw a handful of dried sage into the mixed lifeforce of the two women.</p><p>“Blood sisters…connect us as one, let me speak to you, hear my words and heed my call. Come forth, make your presence known to me, I command it so,” Esmeralda whispered, closing her eyes, and willing all her concentration on the incantation that would bring forth whatever resided within her friend and force it to reveal itself to her. She rose her voice as she snatched a lighted candle off the table and burned the contents of the bowl. “What grace God has given unto me, let it pass into her. Let your power flow through my veins, grant me your voice, Father, let her be spared! <em>Quod gratiam dedit ei permittere ut transeat a me. Fiat meis influent per venas sanguine extinguitar!</em>” she chanted loudly in Latin.</p><p>She was rewarded for her efforts when the creature that had formerly been her friend once jerked, her entire body spasming and seizing. Esmeralda’s eyes flung wide open as she <em>swore</em> she heard a bone crack in the girl’s bleeding side as the blonde sat up.  Though whether or not poor Barreau’s blackened eyes could see any semblance of color or her sight would let her see solid shapes that she recognized, Esmeralda couldn’t tell as the blonde’s eyes made a quick scan of the room and settled on her.</p><p>Esmeralda stiffened, biting the wall of her cheek before she felt something ugly rise within herself as she addressed whatever dark entity possessed her friend.</p><p>“There’s no need to <em>hide</em>. Why don’t you come on out?” Esmeralda remarked in a cold, listless tone.</p><p>The corners of Madellaine’s lips twitched in an infectious bright smile, though when the young woman’s cracked and bleeding lips parted open to speak, it was not her sweet voice that burst forth, but that of an older woman’s voice, deep, husky, not hers.</p><p>“Hmm. You knew where I <em>was</em>. That’s <em>very</em> <em>impressive</em>, lady,” the new she-stranger’s voice remarked as Madellaine sat up straighter on the cot.</p><p>Alice almost startled Esmeralda so badly that she dropped her knife as she let out a scream. “<strong>WHAT</strong>?!? Eugh, what <em>is</em> that?!?” came the unmistakable shrill shriek of Sister Alice behind Esmeralda as the pretty nun made an audible gasping noise at the back of her throat, a noise of horror and disbelief.  Esmeralda ignored the nun’s horrified yelp.</p><p>“Sister, I highly recommend you leave,” Esmeralda barked, having to raise her voice to be heard. She had eyes only for the young blonde, who’d moved off the edge of the bed and now stood in front of Esmeralda. The creature lifted its gaze and boldly met Esmeralda’s gaze. She flinched at being forced to look into those soulless pits of black emptiness but dared not revert her gaze first and admit to it her fear.</p><p>“So, what do you want to do now? Perhaps we could use this time left to talk,” Not-Madellaine answered, the edges of her thin lips curling upwards into a twisted smirk, revealing her sharp teeth. “Let’s see… maybe we could talk about this <em>friend</em> of yours,” the demon’s voice taunted as whatever was possessing Esmeralda’s friend used Madellaine’s body to control her head to look down at her and gestured with her arm, picking up at a segment of her now-ruined green linen dress.</p><p>Esmeralda’s gaze hardened as a stab of fear pricked at her heartstrings. But she refused to let this dark entity see it.</p><p>“Who <em>are</em> you?” Esmeralda asked pointedly. “Your name. Tell me your name. Who’s your master?”</p><p>The creature let out a feral snarl, curling the edges of Madellaine’s lips upward in a twisted sneer that did not suit the young blonde’s pretty features at all. “My name is of no consequence. Only one has the power to command me. They think Baba to be <em>terrifying</em>, but only <em>I</em> know the depths of the Great Moon Mother’s love,” the demon sneered. “Her curse is my blessing. A <em>normal</em> person would have died a lot <em>sooner</em>, madame,” the older woman’s voice emanated in a taunting, mocking tone as she spoke from Madellaine’s lips. “But this girl just didn’t want to let <em>go</em> now, did she? Even up until her end, she fought my master. And when she finally <em>died</em>, it was truly <em>glorious</em>, madame,” the demon taunted Esmeralda.</p><p>“Hmm. You don’t <em>say</em>,” Esmeralda remarked as she took a seat in the chair that she’d previously occupied and folded her arms across her chest, looking rather unimpressed.</p><p>Her tone displayed none of the uncertainty she felt. Esmeralda folded her hands neatly in her lap.</p><p>If the demon inside of Madellaine was surprised, it didn’t show it. “You’re a cold person, lady,” it breathed, now adopting the voice of a small child. This new voice made Esmeralda’s skin shudder. “But know what? It won’t be very long until you end up like <em>this</em> one. It’s just a <em>shame</em> we don’t have much time left to <em>talk</em>,” it growled in a voice almost sounding irate.</p><p>Esmeralda huffed in frustration as she groped for the bowl of water she’d asked Alice to bring upstairs. She heard the rush of hurried footsteps and the unmistakable sounds of gagging and retching and knew without having to look behind her that Alice had fled the tower. She sighed and tucked a lock of her dark hair that had fallen from her bun back behind her ear.</p><p>It was probably for the best that Alice had left. Things were sure to only get more complicated from here.</p><p>“In this case, whatever you are, whoever you are, I’ve got some bad news for you. <em>This</em> is <em>it</em>. The end of the line for you. But before <em>that</em> happens, you’ll have to <em>apologize</em> for all the <em>mischief</em> you’ve caused. <em>Right</em>?”</p><p>When the creature inhabiting Madellaine’s body offered up no verbal response, Esmeralda steeled herself and continued, crossing her right leg over the other and lifting her chin to look it dead in the eyes.</p><p>“Now you’re going to kneel before me in this House of God and beg forgiveness before you <em>leave</em>.”</p><p>The she-stranger’s voice let out a sardonic little chuckle as Not-Madellaine threw back her head and laughed. “You’re pretty <em>funny</em>, lady,” the entity giggled.</p><p>“<strong>I SAID KNEEL</strong>!” Esmeralda bellowed, feeling that familiar hot fire seed of anger welling within the churning pits of her stomach snap as hearing its sickening laughter was the final straw that broke her. Before she could lose her resolve, she chucked the entire bowl of holy water she’d asked Alice to have one of the priests downstairs bless in secret into Madellaine’s face. The result was instantaneous.</p><p>The kind of screech that the creature taking refuge inside of Madellaine let out was the sort of scream that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand upright as Esmeralda was forced to listen to it. The sheer force of the burning was undoubtedly so unbearable for the dark force inside of Esmeralda’s friend that it had done as Esmeralda had said it would.</p><p>It brought Not-Madellaine to her knees, still screeching at the top of her lungs, her fingernails clawing at her own eyes as if trying to gouge them out.</p><p>Esmeralda remained unmoved and still as a statue, keeping her legs and arms crossed as she looked with no semblance of warmth or affection at the girl whom she’d once considered a friend now groveling on her knees in front of her, screaming in agony, slick tears from her blackened eyes rolling down her cheeks.</p><p>“As I <em>said</em>, the end of the line for you,” she remarked coldly, her tone like frost. “If you were paying attention and ability to think <em>rationally</em>, it should have been obvious to you as you <em>cowered</em> inside of my friend like the wretch you are, <em>demon</em>, then it would have been obvious to you that as you pursued <em>her</em> at your master or mistress’s command, then you were ultimately being led to your <em>death</em>, or did you forget where you are?” she smirked, throwing up her hands and looking towards the ceiling of the massive church. “Take a look at yourself now, monster. Just look at yourself. A coward beyond all hope of repair. And like it or not, you’re going to leave my friend and this place, never to return. Go slink back to the shadows from whence you came, and maybe someday if you’re <em>lucky</em>…”</p><p>Esmeralda paused, tapping her chin for effect.</p><p>“No. If you’re <em>unlucky</em>,” here, Esmeralda shot her an almost wolfish grin. “Then I’ll see you again in the seven Hells. No one lives forever, that’s just the way it goes. Now, then. I suppose I could be cruel and torture you some more. Considering what you’ve done to my friend whose body you now inhabit, there’s no question in my mind that it would be appropriate.” She huffed. “Unfortunately, I’m not as <em>vulgar</em> as you. It would bring me no satisfaction.”</p><p>She paused and scooted her chair even closer, almost eagerly.</p><p>Esmeralda continued taunting the entity. “So, I think I’ll sit here and <em>watch</em> as you take your last miserable breath. You’ve ten minutes at best before I dump another bowl of water on you, and the next one’s <em>really</em> going to hurt you. I dedicate these last few minutes of your time in that body to Madellaine Renee de Barreau’s soul. May she rest in peace if she’s departed this world to the next. Although, I’m certain you’d not be able to <em>understand</em>,” Esmeralda growled, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and her forefinger irately.</p><p>Phoebus’s wife felt her foot begin to tap restlessly as she watched Madellaine’s body writhe and screech on the floor, still clawing at her eyes. She hoped somewhere nestled deep inside, her friend was still in there, and that she would come back to them all.</p><p>Her body gave a few spasmodic little twitches after several minutes of listening to the most unholy noises Esmeralda thought she’d ever heard—the sound a wounded, dying animal makes when caught in a snare, before Madellaine’s breathing slowed down.</p><p>Her curiosity piqued, Esmeralda rose from her chair and bent rather stiffly as a thick, black mist seemed to emanate from the young woman’s shoulders, dissipating and vanishing the instant it left by way of the young woman’s cracked lips and nostrils.</p><p>“Hmm. I <em>thought</em> so,” Esmeralda growled lowly, not bothering to tamper down her victorious smirk as it tugged the edges of her lips upwards in a small smile. “You must have been Yaga’s. She’s the only other in Paris I know of who practices Dark magic like this…”</p><p>She silently hoped Phoebus was having better luck interrogating Sarousch for more information at what exactly he’d done to their friend than she was.</p><p>“I’m getting too old for this,” Esmeralda groaned. Though she would call this success as she looked wildly around the room and saw no sign of the swooping swirling black fog anymore, that didn’t mean Madellaine wasn’t quite out of the woods just yet. Esmeralda touched her forehead and pressed her ear to Madellaine’s breast, listening to the girl’s breathing.</p><p>Taking her wrist, the young Romani held it gently, feeling for Barreau’s pulse. Weak but still faint. “Oh, <em>good</em>, you’re still alive in there,” Esmeralda weakly joked, stooping into a crouch, grunting through gritted teeth with the effort to lay her friend back up on the bed. “I was starting to think you had left us, friend. Don't die on me just yet. Not after all that."</p><p>She turned down the linens of Quasi’s makeshift bed with one hand as she supported Madellaine’s limp form in her other arm as best as she possibly could.</p><p>Esmeralda set to work resting a cold wet cloth over the younger woman’s forehead, setting the basin of cold water beside the cot, and set about preparing a poultice of herbs to break Madellaine’s fever, and her own heart ached for the young mademoiselle and for her friend outside on the balcony, angry with him still though she was, there was no denying she just wanted his happiness.</p><p>Esmeralda became determined to see this girl through her sickness and delivered back to those who loved and cared for her, starting with Quasi and her father. She swore to herself she’d not rest until her fever had broken and her wounds were stitched up.</p><p>The sound of Alice’s faint voice, still sounding sick, broke through Esmeralda’s concentration as the pretty, grey-haired nun poked her head through the curtain, having come back to check on Esmeralda.</p><p>“<em>So</em>?” the older woman asked hesitantly as she gingerly and nervously stepped into the room while Esmeralda continued using a mortar and pestle to grind herbs that would stave off the infection of her wound in her side where Sarousch had stabbed the girl.</p><p>Alice swallowed nervously past the lump in her throat, almost afraid to meet La Esmeralda’s gaze.</p><p>“I—is she? Is it? Are they?” The nun wildly gesticulated with her hands to Madellaine’s unresponsive form on the bed, trying to articulate her point and feeling like her words were finally failing her.</p><p>“I believe, Sister,” Esmeralda began, her voice slow and listless, not wanting to give Alice false hope, “that this girl is quite lucky to be alive after…well, <em>that</em>. She was stabbed in her right ribcage at such an angle that what we’re looking at here is more of a flesh wound than anything else. But if he’d have gone any deeper, he would have done irreparable damage to her. I will have to stitch it up here in a moment, but first, her side and shoulder will need tending to, however, and she is developing a low-grade fever that will need constant monitoring by you and any other caretakers of the cathedral that are willing to look after her.”</p><p>Esmeralda almost mentioned Quasi, but didn’t, thinking better of it, and clamped her lips tightly shut.</p><p>“What?” Alice spluttered. “What did you say?” She spoke through a mouth that had gone bone dry.</p><p>Surely, she’d heard the gypsy girl wrongly. Alice’s eyes were wild as she searched the girl’s face for any hint of dishonesty, any sign of a malicious prank. But by the look on Esmeralda’s face, Alice could tell that she had not misunderstood the young girl.</p><p>“She’s safe. For now,” Esmeralda said compassionately, fighting back against the urge to grin. Alice stumbled to the chair across from Esmeralda, she grasped for the arm and missed it.</p><p>Her momentum propelling her forward, the nun turned to sit, the shock of Esmeralda’s news ringing in her eardrums as a horrible, fatigued chiming. Her gait and grasp unsteady, her blue eyes wide with confusion, Alice’s equilibrium failed her as she sat, and she plummeted to the floor, landing on her backside with a loud thud she’d have normally blamed on the wine. But now her brain hardly registered the jolt.</p><p>“<em>Safe</em>…she…what…that…” The nun struggled to comprehend the entirety of the unusual circumstances that had just transpired here in the boy’s tower loft.</p><p>Until finally, with one final look into Esmeralda’s piercing eyes of pale green, the nun understood what it all meant. That Madellaine was safe, that the boy could have a second chance at making amends with his friend once she woke up.</p><p>That hope was not at all lost for Quasimodo.</p><p>“Oh, praise the Lord! Thank goodness!” the older woman exclaimed, lifting her hands to her mouth, and mumbling a silent prayer to God’s Angels under her breath as she let out a collective sigh of utter relief. Esmeralda, however, kept her gaze fixated on Madellaine while she continued to sponge her forehead and addressing the nun, wishing to impart on her the seriousness of the younger woman’s injuries.</p><p>“Don’t celebrate just yet. I must caution you that this is a <em>very</em> <em>serious</em> <em>injury</em>,” Esmeralda continued somberly, making grim eye contact with the aging nun. “Her wound will need to be cleaned, stitched, and a poultice applied every other day, but none of this can possibly prevent a type of infection like gangrene setting in, and of course, as we’ve seen now, she’s already developing a fever as a result of the immense strain and taxation her body’s been forced to cope with.”</p><p>“I—is there really no way to prevent it happening?” Sister Alice asked, her rough-around-the-edges voice showing for the first time since Esmeralda had known the cantankerous old nun the first signs of frailty. “Are you saying the girl’s life is still in danger?”</p><p>“Nothing is for certain,” replied Esmeralda, her voice displaying the signs of sympathy she had been unable to properly exhibit while one of Yaga’s dark entities had assumed control of Madellaine’s mind and body. “Were this more serious, I would burn and cauterize the wound to prevent infection, but since the entry point does not appear to go too deep, I hope this will not be necessary.” Esmeralda scrunched her nose and pulled a face as she continued to bandage Madellaine’s side. “She will need constant supervision. Not just on my part, but everyone here willing to help. It will be a trying few days, we must be prepared and anticipate the worst possible outcome to happen…”</p><p>Alice slowly nodded her head at all of the information. “Will leeches be needed to be procured? What could I possibly do to assist your efforts?” asked Sister Alice cautiously, feeling her heart soar at the thought of the cute little blonde somehow finding the strength within to pull through. Quasi would be no doubt ecstatic once he learned that she was still alive.</p><p>“I don’t think leeches would help our mutual friend in this case, as she has lost a considerable amount of blood,” Esmeralda wearily explained, brushing a lock of dark hair out of her face as she finished her work and gave Madellaine’s arm an affectionate pat, hoping the blonde could feel her now.</p><p>She noticed Alice’s worried look and quickly worked to rectify her mistake in letting the nun worry.</p><p>“You have done all of the correct things so far. Color me impressed, madame. I do believe that perhaps a good chicken broth would go a long way in helping aid the young mademoiselle’s recovery, Alice.”</p><p>“Yes, of course, I will go down to the kitchens at once, and Sisters Rosemary and Ethel will help me make some!” Alice expressed in a relieved little sigh, though she paused on her way out of Quasi’s sleeping nook. “And the boy?” she asked, jerking her head towards the north bell tower’s balcony terrace.</p><p>Where, if Esmeralda craned her neck and strained her eyesight, she could see the faint silhouette of the two men talking, though what was said, she had no idea.</p><p>Esmeralda exhaled a relieved breath as she collapsed on the stool, her work mostly done for now. “You can send for him now. He’ll worry himself into a stupor and give himself a heart attack otherwise if he’s not allowed to see her, but I need for you to stress that he must remain <em>calm</em> if he wishes to stay. Madellaine cannot be exposed to a high-stress environment right now in her extremely vulnerable state. Such exposure would only exacerbate her physical injuries and lengthen her recovery process, Sister. Tell him this."</p><p>“Of course,” Sister Alice hastily replied, moving away even as she continued to keep her gaze on Madellaine’s sleeping form. She hoped it stayed that way, at least while Esmeralda finished up her work. “I will leave you to your work, please let me know if you need any help, you know where to find me, my child.”</p><p>“I will, thanks,” Esmeralda smiled warmly, though her smile felt strained and false. She could feel her cheeks’ reluctance to be molded so falsely like this. “She has a wonderful family here,” she replied, giving the nun a genuine smile as she scooted her stool closer to the bedside. “Madellaine is very lucky to have so many people within these walls who care about her.”</p><p>Alice turned hesitantly on her heels to look at La Esmeralda, who was staring at the older nun with a strangely serene and peaceful look in her light green eyes, despite the shock and horror at what she had just undergone in order to ensure Quasi’s friend’s safety.</p><p>The two women were vaguely acquainted with one another, mostly through brief encounters whenever she and the Captain of the Guard would come on Fridays and Sundays to share a meal with Quasi up here in his towers. But this was admittedly the longest conversation Alice had held with Captain Phoebus’s pretty little wife, and perhaps the best one.</p><p>“Madellaine is indeed fortunate,” was all Alice could summon strength on her throat to manage as an answer before turning on the heels of her leather boots and quitting the room, leaving Esmeralda alone with Madellaine to ponder over the strange and bizarre turn of events that managed to occur in less than a day.</p><p>Esmeralda exhaled a tense sigh of tired relief as the nun’s footsteps faded as she headed out onto the balcony to give Quasi and Lucien the good news. She paused and turned her attention back to the young blonde resting against the mountain of pillows on the bed. Madellaine Renee de Barreau looked…young.</p><p>That was probably the strangest part. Esmeralda herself was only maybe six or seven years older than Madellaine, but now, up close, and personal like this, perhaps it was the dim light from the candle, Lucien Barreau’s only daughter was looking…<em>young</em>.</p><p>Madellaine was deathly white, far too pallid and peaky-looking to be considered healthy, though Esmeralda attributed this particular physical feature to the copious amounts of blood she had lost when stabbed, and thin. So thin, in fact, that Esmeralda wondered if the poor thing had eaten a scrap of bread at all since she had fled the cathedral after their fight.</p><p>Madellaine was small too. Shorter than Esmeralda by a good foot or two. Slimmer. Slighter.</p><p>“It’s <em>okay</em>, you know, my friend,” Esmeralda whispered, reaching for the young blonde’s hand. She flinched at how cold the younger woman’s palm was.</p><p>She seemed to be in some kind of limbo, as far as her consciousness was concerned. Her body would heal, in time, but Esmeralda wasn’t sure if considering the amount of mental turmoil Quasi had put her through, accidentally or otherwise, if she wanted to live.</p><p>“It’s alright, Lena,” she said quietly, squeezing into Madellaine’s hand. “It’s safe to wake up, is what I mean. The creature that had taken you, it’s vanquished. It won’t be bothering you again, my friend. Neither will Sarousch, your master, I can promise you that. Phoebus and his men will ensure he harms no one again. You can wake up now and…”</p><p>Esmeralda searched her mind for what Madellaine might want to do with the freedom that would come for her that not being under Sarousch’s thumb would give her but came up empty. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders.</p><p>“Well. I—I don’t know what exactly you want to do when you wake up. Travel. See the world. See other lands, big cities, big mountains, big oceans. But…before you do <em>that</em>…” Esmeralda leaned forward and squeezed Madellaine’s hand even tighter, allowing the ghost of a smile to flit across her tired features. “There’s someone here for you who’d like to say <em>hello</em>.”</p><p>A brief smile darted across her features as the twinkling sheen returned to her pale green eyes as Esmeralda conjured in her mind a phantasm image of the joy and relief on Quasi’s face when he saw his friend alive and well. Perhaps more than a friend, she mulled this over in her mind, recollecting how distraught he had been over her initial disappearance and then finding her in a state even worse than death.</p><p>Esmeralda leaned back in her chair and watched with a breathless sense of anticipation. She’d admittedly in her twenty-six years of life had never had to deal with the dark demonic force she’d just had to. Though it made her still incredibly nervous knowing their friend was not out of the woods yet in terms of her recovery and still continued to cause Esmeralda much worry and stress over her friend’s condition, it still gave her something to do and hope for. She hoped that she and Quasi could make amends.</p><p>Just then, the sleeping fair-haired beauty made a small grunting noise at the back of her throat, her eyelashes fluttering a few times, her bandaged fingers winding their way through the sheets of the mattress.</p><p>Esmeralda stiffened, her body seizing as her breaths caught in her throat and her limbs went numb. This was bloody <em>it</em>. It was happening, really, truly happening, and she couldn’t believe it herself.</p><p>Madellaine was waking up.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>31</strong>
  
</p><p><strong>THIS</strong> was…<em>not</em> how this was admittedly supposed to go. Quasi dreaded the look in Madellaine’s father’s icy blue eyes as he swallowed down past a lump in his throat.  “I…I…” he stammered, unable to think of anything to say. “I, um, I don’t…that’s…what d’you…”</p><p>The edges of Lucien Barreau’s eyes crinkled, his lips twitching as his mouth curved up into a smirk, though for the hardened warrior it looked more of a pained grimace as he snorted in satisfaction. <em>Finally</em>. He had the boy wriggling and squirming as he pinned him with his cold glacier stare.</p><p>Lucien found it difficult not to roll his eyes a bit at the boy’s posturing. Lucien felt the edges of his thin lips curl upward into a truly vicious sneer.</p><p>“My mistake, boy. Given what you are and your ah, unfortunate-looking visage, I merely thought you’d be <em>grateful</em> for any woman who came stumbling into your life and showed you even an ounce of kindness, but then that was always my Lena, even when she was a little girl, right from the moment she could walk. She’s <em>just</em> like her <em>mother</em>. I did not expect you to be the type to sling my daughter’s feelings about, you—you accursed little <em>whelp</em>,” he added, his glacier orbs softening slightly at the mention of Madellaine’s mother, a woman whom Quasi did not know her name.</p><p>It had been his understanding that Madellaine had no family, save for her master, the ringleader of the circus who’d taken her in. At least, so he thought.</p><p>It took the poor boy a moment to process Madellaine’s father’s words as he realized what he meant. His cheeks flushed high with color in both anger and embarrassment as he realized what was just said about him. Quasi had never felt so appalled in his entire adult life.</p><p>Did this man really think him to be so <em>shallow</em>? After everything his daughter had just been through, after surely seeing for himself with his own two eyes just how much her current physical condition and not knowing if she would survive the night was affecting him? He could barely think and see straight.</p><p>To think that Madellaine’s own flesh and blood father would assume that he was just toying with her because he could was utterly abhorrent and ridiculous. That none of what he felt for his daughter was true or heartfelt.</p><p>How <em>dare</em> this man, Madellaine’s father or not, presume that he understood a damn thing about their…their…<em>friendship</em>.</p><p>He swallowed down hard and spluttered. Even if there wasn’t much feeling after this on <em>her</em> side, he wasn’t…he would never condone such measures.</p><p>“H—<em>how dare you</em>!” he stammered out, raising his voice as his temper threatened to swell to the surface. He clenched his gloved hands into shaking fists at his sides before deciding to clutch onto the railing of the balcony’s balustrade for support, lest he accidentally strikes out against her father in his anger.</p><p>Lucien looked as though Quasi had slapped him for daring to talk back to him in such a way that forsake proper edict.</p><p>“How dare <em>me</em>? <strong>HOW DARE YOU</strong>!” Lucien corrected, the ranger’s weathered face hardening as he looked at Notre Dame’s bell ringer with an expression akin to hatred and loathing lingering in his cold eyes. “You could have prevented my daughter from leaving this place, and you did <em>nothing</em> to stop her. Because of <em>you</em>, my daughter was <em>stabbed</em> by your lack of actions, boy. Because of <strong>YOU</strong>, my daughter’s life now hangs in the balance! That was meant to be her sanctuary, no? But you did not even grant her that much, <em>did</em> you, boy?”</p><p>Lucien seethed accusingly through gritted teeth. He knew from what his contact in the tavern had been able to tell him, the boy had kicked her out of this strange abode after the pair had argued, and he’d made no attempt to stop her from leaving, much less look for her. Lucien turned to stare at Quasimodo, fires of anger flaming in his cold blue eyes, turning them smoldering until Quasi found himself unable to look away, ensnared by the spiteful man’s staring at him.</p><p>The bell ringer, who was a good head or two shorter than Madellaine’s father, felt no smaller than a mere pebble stuck to the bottom of the ranger’s boot.</p><p>Whatever Barreau’s abhorrent opinion of him, it couldn’t possibly be any worse than what Quasi already thought of himself. He’d never escape this notion that plagued him that he should have looked for her, as he had done for Esmeralda just last year. He could not bring his eyes to face her father’s wrathful stare.</p><p>“I…I should have…looked,” Quasi whispered, shaking his head in regret, letting that one stubborn lock of fiery coarse hair fall in front of his eyes like a curtain. “Please believe me. If, for an instant, I—I thought that she was in danger, only death would have stopped me from bringing her back.”</p><p>The ranger smirked indignantly and rolled his eyes in disbelief. “You kicked her out of here, boy,” he accused hotly. “You are not the <em>only</em> one aware of what happens in this tower, kid. I know <em>exactly</em> what transpired between my daughter and you. She <em>cared</em> for you, <em>trusted</em> you, and you rejected her feelings and threw her aside as though my girl was <em>nothing</em> to you. You are the <em>last</em> person that my daughter needs to be around right now, boy."</p><p>Madellaine’s father nearly spat his last words on the floor at Quasi’s boots. Quasi flinched, knowing he had no defense. All that Lucien de Barreau had accused him was true, as difficult as it was for him to accept it.</p><p>There was, however, no one in all of Paris more distressed by his actions than the bell ringer himself.</p><p>“I…thought if she weren’t around me, then Madellaine would be spared a life of heartbreak and scorn. I made her leave in order to protect her,” he replied, painfully too aware of how little good his actions had done. In fact, he’d made things even worse. “The city would never approve of me as a…as…a <em>suitor</em>,” he whispered, hardly daring to believe the words that were tumbling forth from his own lips, words he never thought he would speak in his lifetime.</p><p>“Her master <em>hurt</em> her, boy,” her father growled, moving a step closer towards Quasi in his fit of rage.</p><p>“I—I’d give my <em>life</em> to change that,” Quasi bravely asserted, though he felt anything but brave now. “I—I never meant for Madellaine to get hurt, sir.”</p><p>The ranger said nothing, at least not at first. Something in the red-haired accursed wretch’s tone as he confessed his regret at forcing his daughter to leave the sanctuary, and the suffering in the boy’s brilliant eyes, easily the boy’s best feature aside from his hair, told Lucien Barreau that the boy was truthful when he solemnly swore his wish was to protect Madellaine.</p><p>Lucien understood that the hunchback loathed and hated himself for what his daughter had endured. He believed the monster’s heartfelt confession.</p><p>“You truly <em>love</em> my daughter, don’t you, boy?” It was more of a matter-of-fact statement posed to him.</p><p>Quasi nodded numbly. “With…all that I am, monsieur, though I am not much for her at all,” he growled bitterly, gesturing towards himself by tugging on a lock of his lank red hair and a fistful of his thick woolen green tunic. The honesty in which he spoke moved the aging ranger and former great warlord.</p><p>“She must love you very much,” Lucien acknowledged. “I—I did not get to know my daughter growing up as well as I’d have liked,” he said, looking pained, “But my contact in the tavern told me she is pure of heart, and perhaps one of the most honorable young Mademoiselles in this cesspool of God’s city. If she gives you the gift of herself, boy, she can see having a future in this place with you. Do <em>not</em> take this lightly," he growled, a slight warning edge to his rough voice.</p><p>Quasi blinked owlishly at Madellaine’s father, he couldn’t be sure, but his words sounded like praise.</p><p>He tried to summon enough strength on his throat to manage an answer but couldn’t handle it and opted for a mute nod instead, choosing to stay silent.</p><p>Quasi ran his gloved hand over his drawn, worried face. He raised his red, tear-filled blue eyes, cracked and red-rimmed at the edges from lack of sleep, remembering the wonderful moments spent with Madellaine before their horrible argument ages ago. He knew that if this night ended with her, then he would do whatever he took to follow her to Heaven by his own hand, never mind that such notion was a sin.</p><p>As the horrible thought left his mind, the bell ringer was aware of a tall slender silhouette engulfing the faint light that surrounded the two men brought on by the rays of the moon as Sister Alice hovered in the entryway, not stepping over the threshold of his tower loft’s mezzanine and out onto the terrace to join them.</p><p>Alice was deliberate in her movements, and her face showed the exhaustion she would likely not allow her body to feel for several more hours, Esmeralda trailing close behind the aging nun, wiping her blood-stained hands on a filthy rag, strands of her dark bangs clinging to her sweaty brows, circles under her eyes.</p><p>Quasi turned, his gait unsteady, and he was almost afraid to meet Esmeralda’s eyes and try to read his friend’s expression.</p><p>“H—how is she, Esmeralda?” he asked, stumbling over his words, fear shadowing his hopes as he bit down at the wall of his cheek in fear.</p><p>Esmeralda looked at the bell ringer serenely for a moment, her green eyes heavy with exhaustion. Taking a deep breath, she tucked a lock of her raven hair back behind her ear and solemnly gave the news.</p><p>“She made it through the surgery,” Esmeralda announced, a cautious smile flitting across her face.</p><p>Quasi felt like his knees were about to give out beneath him as he dissolved in utter relief and euphoria, seeing Lucien grab at Alice’s shoulders and shake the pretty nun. Madellaine’s father embraced his old friend and nearly swept the nun off her feet, much to her shock and surprise as a squeak escaped her lips.</p><p>Esmeralda smiled tiredly, happy she could deliver good news. However, the gypsy was still incredibly cautious of declaring their friend fully healed. “She isn’t out the woods yet, my friends,” she cautioned, tempering Quasi and Lucien’s happiness. “She hasn’t yet woken up fully yet, and there is still a heavy risk of infection. She’s developed a low-grade fever, though I’m working on combatting it,” Esmeralda warned. “Her injury was very serious. The wound at her side will take some time in order to heal.”</p><p>“I need to see her. May I?” Quasi begged, his worry returning tenfold as a cold wave of terror swept over him and temporarily rendered him paralyzed.</p><p>She hesitated for a fraction of a second and nodded, though a stern expression flitted across her face.</p><p>“Yes, but I must <em>warn</em> you, Quasi, that Madellaine has…gone through quite an operation,” she explained hastily, painfully wringing her hands and twisting them nervously as she toyed with a lock of her dark hair. “There is a chance that Madellaine may not be…quite herself when she wakes up. I’ve left a bottle of wine given to me by Alice from the food stores down below, and Alice will bring the two of you meals regularly in case she’s hungry when she wakes, but I must stress to you the importance of remaining <em>calm</em> around her. Otherwise, seeing you in an agitated state of stress and worry will only increase her own stress and further aggravate her wounds and Madellaine cannot heal. I need you to stay calm. Do you understand?” she asked.</p><p>He fell silent, processing her words. For a long moment, the bell ringer was frighteningly disoriented.</p><p>There were a few terrible moments of panic as his concern for Madellaine’s well-being took hold and it fluttered painfully in his broad, strong chest. He felt sick to his stomach and already, he could feel bile rising up in his throat, though Quasi swallowed it back down.</p><p>“I—I understand,” he stammered, at last.</p><p>Esmeralda smiled. “Follow me,” she nodded and turned on her bare heels as she led Quasi and Lucien through the bell tower towards the sleeping nook in the corner of the room. 

She held the curtain back to let Quasi enter first, Lucien trailing close behind. Madellaine lay unconscious and motionless on the small makeshift cot, covered with a thin grey blanket, woolen and scratchy, and not comfortable-looking at all but it would keep Madellaine quite warm.</p><p>Her skin was faded and pale from loss of blood, almost taking on a sickly greyish tinge that gave her a pallid look, almost like a corpse. Her breaths were weak and shallow. 

Madellaine appeared more dead than alive. The moment he saw her, what little strength was left in the bell ringer’s legs fled him as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground at Madellaine’s bed.</p><p>Lacking the strength or even the wish to stand, Quasi knelt on his knees by Madellaine’s motionless form. He took her hand, so cold in his grasp that even wearing his gloves, he <em>felt</em> it. 

Her hands were like ice. He did not let this faze him as he took his friend’s hand and pressed her white-boned knuckles to his lips gently for a chaste kiss, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He did not try to fight them back.</p><p>Unable to be strong, the façade too much to bear, he brushed back a lock of her blonde hair off her forehead and bent his face to hers, sobbing her name.</p><p>Quasi hovered over Madellaine, his tears dripping onto her greyish-tinged skin. He lifted his gaze to her face, his fingers tracing along the familiar lines of her cheeks that he noticed now looked sunken-in and emaciated, as though she had not eaten much in these last few weeks surrounding their awful squabble.</p><p>His mind swam with the memories of the moments the two of them had shared with one another, the kiss that she had given him out on the balcony, the several kisses that followed their first thereafter, and visions of the life he’d hoped to still enjoy with her, providing she woke and forgave him.</p><p>Alice, Esmeralda, and Lucien stood at the foot of the low bed, though Lucien looked less than pleased.</p><p>But he relented when Alice laid a firm hand on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze, and the father gave the man space with his daughter he needed.</p><p>It seemed to take Quasi an eternity to find his voice. Finally, however, he spoke, his voice a hoarse, broken rasp.</p><p>“Esmeralda. Wh—when will she wake up?” he asked dryly, swallowing a lump in his throat.</p><p>Esmeralda flinched and awkwardly cleared her throat, suddenly looking uneasy. “That’s ah…hard to say,” she stammered, not wanting to divulge in the details of the dark magical force she’d expelled from her friend’s body and shot Alice a warning look not to mention it to either one of them if she could help it.</p><p>There was no telling if Madellaine would even remember the experience at all when she woke up. Considering everything, Esmeralda hoped she wouldn’t. She hoped her friend woke up remembering nothing of what had transpired about fifteen minutes ago.</p><p>“Her body has been through a great ordeal that has taxed it and stressed it beyond its natural limits,” she said slowly, being careful with her word choice. “She has to <em>heal</em>, Quasi. That may take some time, and…” Here, she paused, her voice trailing off a little.</p><p>“<em>And</em>?” Quasi questioned, his voice a harsh bark as his head whiplashed sharply up to turn in the direction of where the young Romani woman stood, yet not willing to take his eyes off of Madellaine at all.</p><p>He was afraid of the reason she’d not finished.</p><p>Esmeralda shifted her weight from one foot to the other and awkwardly cleared her throat as she continued.</p><p>“Well, th—there’s always the chance of infection, and she might develop a <em>fever</em> of all of this,” she answered, cringing as the thought left her mouth.</p><p>She hated how she sounded so impersonal and cold, but it was just her medical expertise as she acted as something of an experienced Healer in Clopin’s camps, or formerly so, until she’d married Phoebus. Esmeralda awkwardly looked at Alice for help.</p><p>“She’s strong,” the pretty nun spoke up, her sparkling blue eyes twinkling hopefully as she encouraged the boy whom she thought of a son to her. Sister Alice moved closer to Madellaine’s bedside, resting her hand supportively near Quasi’s shoulder, not quite on the hump near his right shoulder. “She has a <em>reason</em> to fight against this, boy,” she patiently reminded their bell ringer. “She won’t give up. She’s got us here in the church to look after her, and with you by her side, she’s going to be alright.”</p><p>Quasi nodded slightly, tearing his gaze away from Alice and back towards Madellaine’s limp figure.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispered in a cracking voice. Lucien looked like there was more he wanted to say, but upon Alice and Esmeralda both shooting the older man a withering look, he thought better of it and allowed both women to lead him out of the bell tower loft, promising that he’d be back later to check on his girl.</p><p>Notre Dame’s bell ringer kept a silent vigil at Madellaine’s bedside. He refused food or any sleep at all, his entire focus being willing Madellaine back to consciousness and the world of the living around her.</p><p>Alice checked on her charge diligently, silently slipping in and out of his tower loft’s sleeping nook with a tray of food, in case the boy got hungry, but he staunchly refused to eat until Madellaine had woken.</p><p>Phoebus stopped by with the news that after a brutal interrogation that left the man’s calloused knuckles cracked and bleeding, blood that was <em>not</em> his own, that Sarousch was arrested and pending a formal trial and a hearing for the man’s crimes against not only the citizens of Paris but against Madellaine, too.</p><p>Considering the charges against him included theft and attempted to murder his own servant, there was a high probability that he’d be sentenced to death.</p><p>Esmeralda continued to care for Madellaine and monitor the young blonde former circus performer’s physical condition, but Quasi barely registered her presence in the room alongside the two of them, then.</p><p>His misery felt utterly relentless. The pain of watching his dear friend, perhaps even more than that to him, watching Madellaine fight for her life and being powerless to help aid her in her battle against time itself. He blamed himself for banishing her from his life and sending her away. He sat diligently by Madellaine’s side, holding her hands, his arms aching to gather the whole of her against his strong, broad chest, and bargaining with God Himself to spare her.</p><p>After almost two brutal, agonizing days had passed, Quasimodo finally heard Madellaine’s beloved voice, but something was horribly wrong with her tone.</p><p>“No,” Madellaine moaned, her eyes still squeezed shut, though her eyelids flickered rapidly against some unseen phantasm of her nightmares that he could not see. Her breaths quickened but did not deepen. “Don’t go, please don’t leave me,” she begged in a pitiful mewl against an unforeseen tormentor. “<em>No</em>! I—I didn’t…ngh…let me <em>go</em>!” she pleaded softly.</p><p>Quasi briefly grew hopeful for a moment, but then his heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach and left him feeling with a sickening sense of cold dread.</p><p>Madellaine wasn’t waking up, even after two days, bordering on three. She was growing delirious. It seemed that her mind’s eye was giving her horrific visions of the one who had stabbed her, abandoned her. He was certain she was dreaming of her master, of Sarousch. He would not blame her for that, he guessed.</p><p>Madellaine couldn’t be held responsible for what her mind conjured as phantasms in its dream state. But then she spoke again, her voice weakening with every word uttered, tugging at his heartstrings.</p><p>“Q…Quasi? Why…why did I leave you?” Madellaine pleaded. For a split instant that startled him, causing him to cry out in surprise, not having expected it, her eyes flew wide open in abject horror.</p><p>She peered at him through a hazy blue fog.</p><p>“Quasi, please don’t leave me,” she implored, her tone urgent and cracking as slick tears slipped from her lids. “Quasi…” Madellaine sought him out again.</p><p>A part of his heart and soul wanted to soar and would have if Quasimodo weren’t currently afraid for her. It was him that she called for in her deepest hour of need. His wretched, disgusting name was ripped from her lips as her slender fingers curled into a twist of the blankets as her tiny form shook violently.</p><p>Their argument seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind, and all Quasi wanted to do for her at this moment was ease Madellaine’s fear that he would leave her. He couldn’t understand, even in her fevered nightmare, why she would doubt that he would remain faithfully by her side.</p><p>But then it hit him as though he had been doused by ice-cold water as a stabbing feeling pricked at his heartstrings, that everyone in Madellaine’s life had ever left her. She’d presumed her father and mother to be dead all those years ago, leaving her alone on the streets to be picked up by Sarousch. His eyes rested on her ashen, grey-tinged, and troubled face. Although her father had lived, he’d not found his long-lost daughter until recently.</p><p>Madellaine did not even know her father was still alive.</p><p>Quasi’s stomach lurched, and he almost grew physically sick at thinking how lonely Madellaine must have been, growing up in a traveling circus with an abusive master, never quite having a place to call home. When she’d finally thought someone had chosen her, him, what had he done to her?</p><p>He’d rejected her and coldly dismissed her from his tower and his life, as though she were little more than dirt stuck to the bottom of his brown leather boots. The pit in Quasi’s churning stomach filled with seething anger and self-hatred at himself for the millionth time again.</p><p>Notre Dame’s bell ringer blamed himself for the uncertainty and fear that plagued her dreams and made it impossible for Madellaine to rest in peace, wishing that she knew just how much he…he <em>loved</em> her.</p><p>He silently vowed that he would not leave her side. He’d prove to her that he was the love and affection that she could depend on if she accepted his apology when she woke up.</p><p>“Madellaine? I—I’m here,” he whispered faintly, as he choked back his salty tears. “I—I’m not leaving you, I—I promise. This is <em>home</em>.”</p><p>Quasi peeled off his brown leather gloves, his trembling fingers reaching out to stroke at her face, but the tender act only worsened his heartache and fear.</p><p>Madellaine’s cheeks were flushed a bright red, and her skin searing and utterly hot to the touch.</p><p>The poor thing was burning up. Quasi let out a hiss through gritted teeth and violently yanked his hand back, growing increasingly alarmed at her state.</p><p>A heartbreaking sob found its way past her lips, tears gathering at the edges of her eyes. Quasi’s heart gave another lurch at the sight of her pain and suffering. She was suffering and there was nothing within his power to help. Unable to stop his own tears from falling, a sob of his own was ripped from his lips.</p><p>Despair and hopelessness began to take hold. It was hopeless! There was little else that he or anyone else could do for Madellaine at this point! Oh, God!</p><p>She was fading right before his eyes and he could not manage to remain calm long enough in order to figure out how to help. Perhaps it would have been better if his friend were to fade away during the night, so as to not suffer like she evidently was right now, yes.</p><p>This…this was <em>torture</em> for her. Madellaine could feel every wound, every pain, every throbbing injury.</p><p>She…she could <em>feel</em> it, and this was all his fault. Quasi knelt into a crouch over her, trying hard to get his tenor-like tones to work, to speak meaningless words of comfort and words of affirmation that would hopefully help ease her pains.</p><p>Yet nothing but choking, watery sobs, and more tears came forth.</p><p>The only thing he could do was stay put and hope Madellaine somehow sensed his nearness. He stroked at her brow gingerly, reaching for a damp cloth with which to sponge at her forehead, hoping to cool down the fever that raged and burned within her. He wanted to pick the young blonde up in his arms but was afraid that with her wound, the action would only place her in more harm.</p><p>The last thing he wanted was to cause Madellaine more pain. More suffering. As he swallowed down thickly past a lump in her throat, something dawned on him.</p><p>Something he’d bloody forgotten. “<em>Esmeralda</em>,” he breathed, remembering his friend’s promise to remain close within the cathedral, her and Phoebus staying in a spare cloister cell on the main level of the sanctuary until they knew his love was out of danger.</p><p>Standing upright to his full height of 6’3, Quasi mustered every bit of strength and control he could manage. The redheaded bell ringer lifted his head towards the openly drawn curtain of his sleeping nook and shouted desperately at the top of his lungs.</p><p>“<em>Esmeralda</em>!” Quasi bellowed urgently, his eyes wide with horror. “<em>Phoebus! Esmeralda</em>!” he cried.</p><p>Esmeralda, who had been coming up the stairwell, carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray containing two chalices of wine, a crust of bread, and a rind of Brie cheese and some cooked sausage, appeared around the curtain in an instant, looking rather winded and flustered, her cheeks flushed high with rosy coloring, clutching at a stitch at her side, Phoebus at her heels, who paused to take the tray from his wife.</p><p>Quasi urgently turned to face the married couple, and then quickly back to Madellaine’s form, wildly gesticulating with his gloved hands in a frantic manner. “I—it’s Madellaine, she—she’s burning up!” he shouted frantically, momentarily forgetting himself.</p><p>Esmeralda nodded, rushing to the opposite side of the cot. She felt her forehead with the back of her palm. Quasi was right, damn him. She didn’t want to believe it. Poor Madellaine was running a high fever.</p><p>Esmeralda gingerly lifted the blanket back, lifting her nightgown she and Alice had dressed her in after her surgery. She inspected the laceration carefully, her beautiful face paling and growing grim.</p><p>“Her wound’s become infected,” Esmeralda announced, her forehead wrinkling as she squinted against the dim lighting coming from the candles Quasi had lit and scattered throughout his bedroom.</p><p>The dark-haired Romani peered at Madellaine’s ribs. The incision was beginning to fester. Green and yellow puss glistening currently slicked around the injury site. A band of red radiated outward from where Esmeralda had stitched Madellaine’s wounds and painted the skin red down to her waist. “Oh, no…”</p><p>The situation did not look good at all. Esmeralda rose urgently from examining the blonde. She replaced the nightgown that covered her body, but pulled the blanket back from the makeshift bed, leaving her legs and arms exposed to the cool tower air.</p><p>Gesturing towards Phoebus, she addressed Quasi. “We need to treat the infection, but first, we’ll have to get her fever down before that happens,” she told Phoebus as her husband hastened to her side. “Bring me sheets and buckets of cold water from the well outside the cathedral,” Esmeralda commanded her spouse in a curt, clipped tone. Phoebus nodded and bolted on his heels in his haste to comply with her demand. Then Esmeralda turned to Quasimodo. “I’ll come back shortly, my friend,” she hastily told him. “I need to mix the remedies and need the space to work.”</p><p>Quasi merely gaped, his thoughts overwhelmed and overcome with thinking only of Madellaine’s health. Esmeralda stole a distressed glance at him before she turned on her heels and left the tower nook.</p><p>Phoebus barreled down the bell tower loft’s stairwell, regarding how worried his friend had looked.</p><p>He’d never seen the younger man look so weak and frightened, not since Judge Frollo was still alive.</p><p>His mind drifted unbidden to thoughts of Madellaine Barreau lying frail on the makeshift cot. He could scarcely believe it was the kind-hearted blonde. The young, independent, strong woman now seemed so broken and vulnerable, and in a lot of pain. His mind went back to what Esmeralda had said a month or so ago when Esmeralda and Madellaine had encountered Russian Slavic witch Baba Yaga during Sarousch’s encampment’s first night in Paris.</p><p>The old hag (who had since disappeared without a trace) had seen Quasi and Madellaine together, seemingly destined for one another. She’d declared that their future together was almost certain. Surely, the old Russian witch hadn’t been wrong, had she? Phoebus stifled a low growl forming at the back of his throat and continued down the steps.</p><p>He could not understand why this was happening to them all, particularly not to Madellaine, and he prayed that God would be merciful to his friends.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, she's definitely sort-of-improving, but Madellaine's not out of the woods yet, and there's still plenty more Quasiline drama to come as they have a lot to hash out and her father is still going to cause some issues for our favorite young lovers.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Chapter 32</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>32</strong>
</p><p><strong>THE</strong> silence in his sleeping nook was too much. Left alone with just Madellaine in the room while he waited in dread and a horrible impatience for Esmeralda and Phoebus to return, Quasi sank back down on the small stool by Madellaine’s bedside, lost in the throes of his own worry and his misery. Quasi held tight to the young blonde’s hand, trying to give her a lifeline that she could cling to. He wanted nothing more than to be brave for her, but his own little world was crumbling to pieces right before his wretched eyesight as her own life seemed to be slipping away from her.</p><p>He’d always been strong, was afraid of nothing since Frollo’s passing. However, now, Quasi felt anything but brave and fearless. In fact, he’d never felt more terrified. In a bold move, well, bold for him, he brought his face to Madellaine’s and kissed her forehead, horrified at how burning hot her skin was.</p><p>Resting his head next to hers, it was his turn to beg now. He could only hope that she heard him.</p><p>“Madellaine?” Quasi pleaded in a whisper that was more of a half-choked sob. “Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me again. Not a second time.”</p><p> His request sounded like a whispered prayer, a plea to God if He would listen to a wretch’s prayer. He highly doubted it, but at this point, Quasi was very much desperate. It was only maybe five minutes or so before Esmeralda and Phoebus returned, but for poor Quasi, it felt as though Time itself had stopped and eternity had passed with the two of them here in his tower at the top of the world.</p><p>Phoebus hauled in two large buckets of ice-cold water brought in from the well, the very same well, as it so happened, that Judge Frollo had almost tried to drown Quasimodo in twenty-one-years ago, but he forced himself to ignore that little fact, and under his arm, a handful of linens. Under Esmeralda’s instructions, Phoebus quickly dunked the sheets in the frigid-cold water and began draping them over Madellaine’s fevered body.</p><p>Esmeralda carried in her hands a small wooden bowl, a small knife that had been washed and cleaned, and several clean rags. She carefully set the basin on a small wooden table alongside the makeshift bed and sliced open the side of Madellaine’s nightgown with her knife. Wiping the knife clean for good measure on one of the clothes, Esmeralda, with practiced precision, began carefully scraping and cutting away the rancid parts of the wound festering on her ribcage.</p><p>Even in Madellaine’s fevered and unconscious state, her body instinctively began to react to the pain. She inhaled, moaning in her sleep.</p><p>“Stop, Esmeralda, <em>stop</em>! Y—you’re <em>hurting</em> her!” Quasi cried in a dangerous voice that was more of a growl and tried to stop his friend from scraping away any more of Madellaine’s diseased skin with a growl.</p><p>Esmeralda pulled away and almost sanguinely turned her face towards Quasi’s, her expression fatigued though her tone was clipped and curt and carried more than a faint trace of annoyance with him.</p><p>“<em>Quasi</em>. I have to clear away as much of the infection as possible, or it’s going to poison her entire body, that’s how infections <em>work</em>, do you <em>understand</em>?” she stated calmly, trying to make the boy understand.</p><p>Quasi opened his mouth to protest, that surely there had to be another way for Esmeralda to work that wouldn’t cause Madellaine copious amounts of pain, when he felt the tempered strength of the soldier’s grip on his good shoulder as Phoebus stepped up and restrained the young man, albeit with great difficulty.</p><p>“Let my wife <em>work</em>!” Phoebus demanded through gritted teeth as he began to drag the boy away from the sleeping nook, not wanting him to see this. “<em>Please</em>.”</p><p>He tried a softer approach when he heard Quasi let out a guttural growl in response from somewhere deep within his chest, reacting out of fear, though his fear was manifesting itself as raw anger.</p><p>"<em>Please</em>, Quasi. Esmeralda knows what she’s doing! I—I promise, if she didn’t have the expertise, we would have called for a doctor, but I think my wife is her best chance, my friend,” Phoebus lowered his voice and tried to make himself sound as non-accusatory as possible, though his own temper was flaring to dangerous levels.</p><p>His adrenaline high still hadn’t come down off interrogating Sarousch earlier, of which he’d managed to learn very little about Baba Yaga’s whereabouts, who was, as it turned out, the mastermind behind all of it. Needless to say, this had not exactly improved Phoebus’ mood during the interrogation, and as a result, the Sun God had <em>not</em> been kind to Sarousch, and he’d left the man a bloodied, broken wreck who was no longer handsome at all.</p><p>He’d left his face a broken grotesque, as it so happened, with his nose broken and eye swelled shut. Pacified a little bit by his friend’s insistence, Quasi reluctantly conceded and let Esmeralda finish, although he watched his friend work very carefully. Esmeralda crossed the sleeping nook’s floor to retrieve the bowl and perched it on the edge of the bed alongside Madellaine. She began using her own finger to scoop out what looked like a thick, dark, disgusting-smelling paste that made Quasi’s nostrils flare and his stomach lurch in agitation that it held, painting it delicately over Madellaine’s wound as she would paint a canvas.</p><p>When she was satisfied with her handiwork, she dressed the area in a clean rag, the fabric held in place by the foul-smelling concoction atop of her skin.</p><p>When Esmeralda was finished, she pulled the cold but still damp sheet on top of Madellaine’s chest and wetted a few of the smaller linen sheets Phoebus had brought. She wrung them out over the pail and folded them carefully, placing one behind the girl’s neck and the other over her feverish browbone. Poor Madellaine began to shiver, her teeth chattering violently as the icy water from the drenched covers penetrated her fiery, blazing skin that was burning up.</p><p>The beadlets of water that dripped down the bedsheets and puddled onto the hardwood floor were warm by the time they reached the wood, and through it all, Quasi never once let go of her hand. And it was thus, that the agonizing waiting began yet again anew, causing Quasi to want to throw back his head and <em>scream</em>. Was there no end to her suffering and torment? Hadn’t she suffered enough?</p><p>Quasi was looking every bit the haggard monster the stories made him out to be in this exact moment, sitting unmoving at all next to the bedside in his crumpled tunic, his strong, angular jawline scruffy with three-day, going on four, stubble along his chin, a dusting that he’d need to shave off soon, his unkempt red hair falling lank in front of his eyes. But he couldn’t manage to even pretend to give a damn. His only sole focus was on Madellaine.</p><p>Phoebus watched with concern as the boy continued to deteriorate as the hours passed.</p><p>He feared what Quasi would do to himself should the worst come to pass. Phoebus begged the younger man to eat something, even going as far as to remind him that he would do Madellaine no good when she awoke if he should pass out sick from hunger and dehydration.</p><p>Quasi conceded and managed to try a few bites of a meager looking stew that Alice had made for him down in the kitchens but could barely keep it down and only brought it back up as gorge, feeling grateful he kept a pail beside his bedside in case Madellaine should suffer sickness when she woke.</p><p>Phoebus’s worry for both Madellaine and Quasi was excruciating to the point of being alarming.</p><p>Esmeralda continued to see to Madellaine’s care with Sister Alice’s help. She dutifully cleaned and re-dressed the wound at her side with fresh poultices almost nearly every hour on the dot. She personally took over from Alice the task of soaking clean linens in ice-cold water fetched from the well outside by Phoebus and laying them over the blonde’s malnourished, shivering, and frail form. Her body temperatures were still dangerously high, and the fact that she had not regained consciousness troubled Esmeralda greatly. Madellaine continued to fight for her life. Esmeralda hoped she would pull through.</p><p>She could only pray for it. “To me…” she whispered, allowing her hand to ghost along her friend’s cheekbone. “To me, Lena…come back…”</p><p><em>Hear my words</em>, she pleaded silently.</p><p>
  <em>Come back...</em>
</p><hr/><p><strong>MADELLAINE </strong>couldn’t be sure, but she swore she heard Quasi’s voice, his sweet, tenor-like tones speaking to her, begging her to come back to him, his broken voice sounding cracked and full of despair.</p><p>“<em>To me…come back to me…please…</em>”</p><p>If she strained her ears to hear, she thought she heard him, close by and yet far away at the same time. Faint but muffled, as if Quasi were speaking to her underwater. She could pick out the man’s distraught but unmistakable voice drowning in a blurry haze.</p><p>She had thought death should have been much less painful. But then again, she was sure she was far from any sweet, glorious Heaven. She did not deserve to pass through its gates after the horrible wrongs she’d committed at Sarousch’s bidding. Not after the hurt that she had caused Quasi. She deserved this Hell.</p><p>It felt to Madellaine like she was caught in a churning tide. And all at once, the young blonde ex-circus performer became all too aware of the brutal and searing pain that felt like it tormented her whole body.</p><p>It was almost more than she could bear. Her muscles seized in agony, though her aching right side refused to move and kept her firmly pinned in place, lying, just waiting. Then just as quickly as that sensation would come, she would succumb to nothingness. A void in which she ceased to truly exist.</p><p>Then pain again, and the darkness behind her closed lids would creep up on her again, rendering her thinking this was what her own personal Hell felt like.</p><p>She thought she could abide it better than the remorse she’d felt when she and Quasi had argued.</p><p>This was more agreeable than looking into his cobalt blue orbs and seeing such pain and torment.</p><p>Madellaine thought it strange that it was not her master, not Sarousch, who should hover in her thoughts almost constantly now. He was, after all, the one to whom she had tried to return to after Quasi had sent her from his towers with nowhere else to go.</p><p>The one for whom she had abandoned her true love. At least in her death, she was happy her thoughts should fall upon the one she had loved, once. If only she’d gotten the chance to tell him before…But she hadn’t. She’d kissed him, yes, several times as a matter of fact, but could not bring herself to utter the three precious words that she had once heard her Papa tell her before he and Mama had died that such a confession should never be taken lightly.</p><p>She had not died with his name in her throat. The one whom she had abandoned, the man who made her feel loved, cherished, respected, honorable, and complete for the first time in her young adult life, now <em>hated</em> her, because of what she was, what she did.</p><p>But if only Quasi could have understood that there had been no other way. It was the only thing Madellaine could have thought of to keep him safe, was to offer herself up in exchange for his own life. Even now, her heart fractured into a million tiny fragments, shuddering at the thought of what Sarousch would have done to an innocent soul, a gentle giant like Quasi was. If her master had discovered the truth of her love she held for the hunchback, Sarousch would have tortured the man.</p><p>She wondered now why her master was not with her now, in this pitch-darkness that let her see nothing. No shapes, no colors. It would have been a fitting punishment, she thought bitterly to herself. What better torture than spending an eternity in your own personal Hell with the very person whom you abandoned them for, for whom she’d lost everything?</p><p>No. No, but that wasn’t quite true, was it? She had given it up, her freedom and future, a chance for a happy life, Quasi, everything in Paris.</p><p>Though her reasons had been pure, Madellaine had thrown all of it away for a lie, Sarousch’s lie.</p><p>And now, the only thing she wished for was to curl up into a fetal ball and let Death’s cold embrace take her away, ferry her spirit to the afterlife. Anything was better than to relive his torment in her mind. She cared not what happened to her, as long as Quasimodo was spared any further suffering now.</p><p>Quasi had tried, God bless him. The man had tried to make Madellaine believe that she was better than the monster Master Sarousch had created of her.</p><p>He had seen some small spark within her that she did not even know still existed within herself and had held up to the mirror to her reflection, metaphorically speaking, trying to get Madellaine to see it for herself, whatever that ‘thing’ happened to be. How it had burned her blinded and shielded eyes.</p><p>She ran from it, back to Sarousch, after they had argued. But she’d felt the bell ringer’s pull, even then and there. Quasi had shown her kindness, hope, and respect, the likes of which the circus performer had never known before. She’d never known such emotions around the likes of Sarousch and Baba Yaga. It was Quasi all along who had held her heart, and he had rejected her, had dismissed her from his life, claiming she was a burden and his own torment.</p><p>Well. It worked both ways. Now he was <em>hers</em>. Quasi had wanted to make her hate him, had wanted to hurt her badly enough when they’d fought to stay away. It was the only way he could be sure that she would be ‘safe’ according to her, and now look at her.</p><p>Surely, even now, Quasi detested her for what she was, despite her knowing that her heart and soul would belong to him, whether or not he wanted her.</p><p>She remembered Sarousch stabbing her, but everything after that was a hazy blur, coming to her in fragmented segments. Her mind focused on the relief that Quasi would be unharmed by anything that Sarousch could have done the moment she felt the pierce of the blade of his dagger into her ribcage.</p><p>She had saved Quasi even from herself, and now, all Madellaine could see as she peeked into the promise of her demise was Quasi’s loving face. She did not care if her wounds took her life on this night.</p><p>She almost hoped it would, for without him, what reason left had she to continue living like this?</p><p>So, the circus performer allowed herself to be content enough to wallow in her own misery and pain, alone in her eternal darkness and ached for him.</p><p>It was only Notre Dame’s bell ringer’s memory that would be her comfort in this endless Hell, and still, Madellaine counted herself as quite fortunate.</p><p>She would never need to give up the man again. With eyes closed, she focused intently on the remembrance of her lips pressed against his in a kiss, so much that she could almost conjure him in her mind. For the few precious moments, her mind would let her, Madellaine could enjoy Quasi’s company and pretend as none of this had happened, that things were blissfully different and happy between them.</p><p>Slowly but surely, Madellaine found herself surfacing from the darkness of her own subconsciousness once more, her thoughts fixated on Quasi. She just wanted to float here alone with him, to savor the moment with her true love while it lasted.</p><p>But it did not stop, and even that was fleeting. She continued to surface upward until breaking free from the mire that her body was in began to hurt her.</p><p>Madellaine was beginning to wake up now, but her already weak body had been more or less drugged with copious amounts of a sleeping potion poured down her throat while she’d slept to help her combat pneumonia, and she lay for a while in a semi-conscious haze, teetering on the brink between the darkness of her nightmares and the brilliant light of the world. It was like being submerged in the dark, murky waters of the River Seine, just beneath the surface of her own distorted reality, she swore she could see and hear Quasi by her side, murmuring her, speaking to her, but he was distant and distorted, an indistinct ripple that could not fully succeed in penetrating the thin haze that stretched over her perception of the world.</p><p>A thought then swam towards Madellaine, fully formed and dangerous like an eel that could shock you.</p><p><em>You dreamt all of this</em>. <em>Quasimodo is not by your side, you’re back in the inn with Sarousch, and he’s killing you even now.</em></p><p>Momentarily, this dark thought lit up her mental darkness. Madellaine had imagined things before, the absentminded daydreamer that she was. The gargoyles in the cathedral coming to life and moving, talking of their own volition, those talks sometimes with Yaga even when the witch wasn’t physically present alongside in the room with Madellaine—in fact, it had been so long since she’d lost track of the difference between reality and her own fantasies.</p><p>Could wherever she was now just be another cruel illusion?</p><p>Alarmed, Madellaine quickly ran to the surface, and whatever might be waiting for her there, not sure if she wanted to open her eyes.</p><p>Suddenly, from nowhere, a burning light brighter than a lighted torch burned itself into her vision. It was dim as a lighted candle but agonizing. It very nearly blinded the poor blonde then and there. Everything felt like it pressed down on her chest.</p><p>The cold biting air shocked her burning lungs as she gasped in desperation for the sheer taste of it. The darkness around her was gone. She blinked her eyelids open a couple of times and she now found herself staring up at the wood ceiling of what she knew to be the bell ringer’s sleeping place.</p><p>Her chest heaved as her heart tried desperately to find its rhythm. She tested her body, her muscles flexed, but even that ached and she could not move.</p><p>Every attempt to move sent an explosion of pain through her right side, white-hot lightning flares of agony. Madellaine shuddered to think what fresh hell awaited her now and lay there in dread for her suffering to begin yet anew, to meet the Devil himself. But then…she heard Quasi’s voice, low, soft.</p><p>The first thing that swam into focus was his face, looming just over Madellaine’s. She drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs, causing her to scrunch her face into a pained sort of a grimace. It had been at least two months since she’d seen him last.</p><p>And now that he was here in front of her, she didn’t know if the man was real or just a phantasm. Madellaine fought to keep her eyes open, though her eyes’ torture was met by the burning, harrowing pain of the light of a candle being thrust into her face. Her hoarse throat cried out against this action as she tried to raise her arms to shield her vision, but her body stayed motionless despite her most valiant attempt. She cursed herself for this.</p><p>“That’s it.” Quasi’s soft tenor-like tones, hopeful, cut through the gloom of her thoughts again. “Fight it. Come back,” he cried from somewhere that she could not see. Madellaine heard her love again.</p><p>Quasi was not dead. Then that meant that Sarousch hadn’t gotten to the man after all, which… Which meant that…which meant that…she had succeeded.</p><p>She was crying now, she could feel it. In that first moment after summoning what meager strength she had left just to open her eyes, Madellaine felt as afraid as she ever had whenever she would practice her tightrope walking, and even then, the damned rope was only ever three feet off the ground.</p><p>Her mind was convinced his sweet, worried face was nothing more than one last cruel hallucination. Maybe it was her mind’s way of letting her say goodbye.</p><p>Madellaine let out a small, painful sob as that thought pricked at her consciousness until it was all that she could think of. “Quasi…?” she whispered, and she heard a tiny hoarse rasp that resembled her voice escape from the back of her throat. “Is…is that you?”</p><p><em>If it’s not, then I’ll just give up and die right now</em>, Madellaine thought, biting down on her bottom lip. If her own overactive imagination could play such a heartless trick on her, she could not go on at all.</p><p>She waited, still biting her lip, for him to answer. It had to be well past midnight, given how dark her surroundings were.</p><p>The darkness once more engulfed Quasi’s north bell tower loft. A cold wind blew in from the balcony. But Madellaine only focused on his face. The exhaustion of the days spent keeping a close vigil on his beloved friend not only showed on the man’s forlorn face but had taken a toll on his body, too.</p><p>He shivered as her fingers moved once through his thick tuft of wavy ginger hair that always had a mind of its own, no matter what he tried to do to it.</p><p>He caught her fingers and held them to his lips as he turned to gaze up at her sweet face. Madellaine’s complexion still held a greyish tinge to it he didn’t like, though he was ecstatic to see she’d regained some color. Madellaine’s bright blue eyes were open, and she was watching him apprehensively, as though not sure what to think. The corners of her mouth twitched, as though she wanted to smile, but couldn’t manage it.</p><p>Quasi’s heart leaped up into his throat with utter joy. He raised himself to Madellaine’s face and kissed her forehead softly.</p><p>He was almost afraid to touch her as his strong hands shifted nervously from her trembling fingers to her waist, and then finally lingered, hovering over her cheekbones, not touching her. He could not control the happy tears that left his lids and dropped onto her skin, falling onto her neck.</p><p>Quasi smiled and nodded. “D—do you want a drink, Madellaine?” he whispered as Madellaine repeated the gesture, grimacing a little as she heard the familiar sneer of the dark, demonic voices inside her mind that sounded too much like Sarousch for comfort.</p><p>
  <em>That doesn’t mean anything—Yaga’s spoken to you in times past when she wasn’t there! Don’t get your hopes up! What if this is all just another trap? </em>
</p><p>Madellaine was becoming more aware of her surroundings, as Quasi reached for a wineskin of water as she glanced around the man’s sleeping nook, looking for anything from Sarousch’s camp or his caravan that her mind might have disguised as his tower in order to make this nightmare more tolerable.</p><p>If this WAS a hallucination, it was the most lucid one that Madellaine had ever experienced, and the first that wasn’t played out against the backdrop of the cold outdoors. She began to recognize that she was warm and comfortable, just like she’d expect to be somewhere safe, somewhere warm, like his tower loft.</p><p>Quasi approached Madellaine carefully with the wineskin. Using what little strength she had left, she grunted with the effort to prop herself up laboriously against her mountain of pillows, not much, really, just enough so that she wasn’t lying flat on her back and let Quasi gently put the corked open wineskin against her cracked lips.</p><p>The water was ice-cold and soothed her burning throat. The water certainly <em>seemed</em> real enough. It was the first clean drink of water she’d enjoyed in a little over a week. And it tasted delicious. When Madellaine had finished her drink, she beckoned the tall man closer with a slow, weak finger.</p><p>“Q—Quasi?” she croaked weakly. “C—could you do something for me, please?” she beseeched the man.</p><p>Quasi nodded, though he looked apprehensive.</p><p>“Pinch me,” Madellaine whispered quietly. Her chest felt considerably lighter than when she’d woken up, but it was still an effort to talk and hurt her throat.</p><p>Quasi startled, looking taken aback by the nature of his friend’s request and he hesitated. Then, Madellaine felt the man’s warm fingers on her bony arm and a short, sharp needle of pain that went up to her arm as he managed to squeeze a small portion of flesh.</p><p>Madellaine shuddered for a moment, but the stinging sensation felt good. She felt, well, <em>relieved</em>. It was as Baba had told her once. That if you could feel a pinch while you were awake, then she couldn’t be imagining this, that she must have made it out alive.</p><p>“Quasi,” she sobbed, the tears beginning to form again, but this time they were tears of relief rather than fear and sadness. “I thought…you’d not make it out…”</p><p>He looked more than a little startled, and for a moment, just a moment, a flicker of a darker emotion darkened his pale blue irises until they were cerulean, and she sincerely hoped they weren’t about to have another fight. Not now. But just as quickly as the foreign emotion of anger darted through his eyes, it had gone.</p><p>“I—it’s alright, Madellaine, y—you’re safe now. I…we love you,” Quasi said, a little embarrassed as he heard himself say those words in his wobbling, cracked, breaking voice. They didn’t sound right coming from him, but they seemed like the right ones to use at this moment when she needed the comfort. “Y—you’re awake,” Quasi whispered breathlessly, overcome with happiness and staring at Madellaine with such intensity and scrutiny that made her blush.</p><p>As if she were the most beautiful creature in his world.</p><p>“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” he confessed with a nervous smile, his lips quivering.</p><p>“Where…am I?” Madellaine’s voice was barely audible from going days, weeks, even without being used. Even when she’d taken refuge in Clopin’s court alongside the man, she’d not spoken to anyone at all.</p><p>Her throat was so dry it was an effort and a chore just to force out the words she wished to speak.</p><p>“You’re in the tower, Madellaine.” Quasi was anxious to keep uncertainty and fear from his love’s mind. “Y-your master injured you. D—do you remember anything?” he asked, telling her as calmly as he could manage, and breathing out a sigh of relief when she shook her head. “The wound became infected, and you’ve had a very high fever for the last three days.” As if to emphasize his point, he caressed her now-cooled forehead and stroked back wisps of her hair. “But you’re going to be alright now because I’m going to look after you,” he solemnly promised her.</p><p>Phoebus, who was resting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall, woke up to the sound of Quasi’s voice.</p><p>He’d heard him speak to Madellaine in her sleep several times over the last three agonizing days and was about to try to go back to his uneasy sleep when he noticed Madellaine’s hand move up Quasi’s strong arm and grip tightly to the man’s bicep.</p><p>And then he saw the young blonde blink a couple of times, and this spurred the soldier to action. Captain Phoebus leaped to his feet urgently, hardly daring to believe his own eyes, wondering if this was a product of his own sleep-deprived mind. “<em>Esmeralda</em>!” Phoebus shouted, eager for good news.</p><p>Esmeralda came quickly, almost tripping over the hems of her skirts in her haste to appear at her husband’s side to see what in God’s name was wrong.</p><p>She clutched at a stitch in her side and stopped short when she saw Madellaine awake, Quasi by her side. A hopeful smile flitted its way across her face.</p><p>“Well, well, look who’s awake. This is a pleasant surprise and a welcome sight, my friend, how’s your throat?” she asked, her green eyes raking over Madellaine’s still weak and frail form with concern.</p><p>“It’s okay, I guess,” Madellaine croaked. It wasn’t, not really, everything hurt, but she didn’t want her friends fussing over her any more than they already had. Not at this precise moment, at least. In truth, she felt guilty as Esmeralda looked at Madellaine expectantly, and she hated knowing she made them worry about her.</p><p>In truth, she was beginning to feel more than a little embarrassed about all the trouble she had caused.</p><p>“You gave us a hell of a fright there, lady,” Phoebus remarked as he strode to the bedside and awkwardly patted her bandaged hand. “Thank God you’re alright,” he murmured quietly to his friend.</p><p>Esmeralda grinned, stepping closer to Madellaine’s side. “If I could examine the wound?” she asked in a gentle voice, her gaze briefly flitting towards Phoebus as she silently tried to communicate to her husband with her eyes to go and fetch her aging father.</p><p>Lucien, ornery though he was, deserved to know the truth, that his daughter was alive and now awake.</p><p>Though first, they had to coax Madellaine into the idea of receiving the man as a visitor in the first place.</p><p>Madellaine nodded numbly, and Quasi held his breath while he prayed that all was well with her indeed. They both watched in nervous apprehension as Esmeralda carefully pulled back the damp, cool sheet and gingerly lifted the edge of her nightdress to reveal the poultice that Esmeralda had painstakingly applied.</p><p>She peeled back her gown and studied the wound. With gentle fingers, she carefully pressed at the edges of the wound, wincing as she heard the young blonde draw in a pained gasp that was more like a hiss.</p><p>No colored discharged oozed from the incision as it had three nights ago when Esmeralda had first stitched up her wounds.</p><p>She gingerly gave a nod of her head as she rested the back of her palm against her forehead, Esmeralda considering Madellaine’s temperature with a thoughtful, pensive look on her face. Letting her hand fall gently at her waistline, the Romani woman’s white smile grew even wider then.</p><p>“Your fever’s broken,” Esmeralda happily reported. “Your wound is on its way to healing, the poultice is already doing its job, but I must caution you that this injury is going to take some time to heal. I’d recommend not moving around much over the next few weeks.” She regarded Madellaine and Quasimodo with relief. “She will need time to recover, but I would say that you’re already through the worst of it, Lena.”</p><p>Behind her, Phoebus beamed at the happy news. Quasi kneeled once more beside Madellaine. His knees were starting to ache from maintaining his position on the floor like this, but he paid it no mind.</p><p>He slowly rose to his feet and gingerly gathered Madellaine in his arms, holding her as tightly as he dared, and pressed a gentle kiss to her brow. She looked as though she had wanted more, a crestfallen expression on her face as he had not thought to kiss her.</p><p>If there was ever a moment when he truly wished to kiss her, this was it, but with his friends here, his courage failed him. Madellaine let out a content little sigh, her moment of relief surging higher than the anger in her heart she still felt for Quasi, knowing that soon, they would have to have that dreaded conversation and touch upon their argument, but for now, she was just grateful that it had been her and not Quasi who Sarousch had stabbed. She was not sure she could have survived watching Quasimodo suffer at his hands. Quasi carefully rested her back against the pillows, his face hovering over hers, washed in relief.</p><p>“God’s answered my prayer for the first time in my life,” Quasi whispered, lowering his voice so that only Madellaine could hear him as he smiled at her, certain that he was the luckiest man alive, though before she could part her lips open to speak, Phoebus awkwardly cleared his throat from somewhere behind.</p><p>Annoyed that his moment had been more or less interrupted by Esmeralda’s Sun God, Quasi turned his head sharply in Captain Phoebus’s direction, shooting the handsome man a truly annoyed and withering stare that would have turned the man to stone where he stood had the bell ringer possessed the capability.</p><p>“What?” he barked in a gruff tone, perhaps harsher than he would have liked, for he inwardly winced as he watched Phoebus flinch in both hurt and surprise at the rough coarseness of his friend’s voice.</p><p>Phoebus suddenly appeared hesitant, furrowing his thick blond brows into a frown, and fidgeted with his gold wedding band. He only seemed to summon strength on his throat to provide an adequate answer when Esmeralda nudged to stand next to him and instinctively let her hand find his by his left side.</p><p>“It’s, ah…well…th—there’s the matter of Madellaine’s visitor, he won't leave until he speaks with her, and has demanded to be notified the moment she wakes. He has that right,” he stammered, a fiery heat creeping to his cheeks as he suddenly looked more and more uncomfortable as Madellaine perked up at the notion.</p><p>“A visitor?” Madellaine frowned. Everyone she knew was within these walls, save for Monsieur Clopin, Sarousch, and Baba Yaga. “Who is it, Captain?” she asked. Her confusion only escalated when Quasi shot the golden-haired Sun God a rueful, admonishing look.</p><p>“Phoebus, can’t this wait until <em>later</em>?” he growled, wildly gesticulating with his gloved hands towards Madellaine’s weak form resting in the bed.</p><p>Phoebus was hesitant to speak, but when Quasi almost threatened to soldier with the look, he relented with a heavy sigh as he pinched at the front of his temples. “<em>No</em>, Quasi, it <em>can’t</em>. He’s come a long way—”</p><p>“<em>He</em>?” Now Madellaine’s curiosity was piqued as the young blonde sat up straighter, albeit with great difficulty, and quizzically looked from Quasi to Phoebus for confirmation, confusion written on her face as plain as the nose on her face. “Who is it, Ser?”</p><p>“Lucien…” he swallowed. “Lucien…Barreau.” There was a flash of shame that lighted Phoebus as he began to shake his head and lifted his gaze to hers.</p><p>Madellaine hesitated, not sure she liked the growing look of annoyance and anger in the Sun God's light hazel eyes.</p><p>"And..." she asked, biting her lip. "Who is this man to me?" she questioned, not sure she wanted the answer, but at the same time, she couldn't stand not knowing the truth. Not after everything these last few weeks.</p><p>It seemed to take Phoebus an eternity to find his voice, and when he did, his tone was soft, quiet, and his expression as grim as a graveyard.</p><p>“Your father.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Chapter 33</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Phoebus gets his own moment to sort of shine. Or try to, at least...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>33</strong>
</p><p><strong>PHOEBUS</strong> even after a year of living in Paris since returning home from the wars and making a life for himself here in the City of Lovers, still wasn’t sure after all this time, if he would get used to the darkness of the interior of Notre Dame de Paris when no other souls were up and wandering about. He let out a sigh.</p><p>The air of the cathedral was chilled, and it was the kind of night, the Sun God thought, that made a man regret every single choice in life he’d ever dared to make, and this revelation caused his past to haunt him. The golden-haired Sun God stood sullenly in the nave down in the main level of the sanctuary, having come to seek out Madellaine’s father and his brother’s former commander before his brother had been killed in action in the frontlines, an arrow to his head.</p><p>The aging blond ranger appeared to be lost in thought, though to the casual observer, it would appear that he was simply taking in the magnificent view of the nave where people came to pray and give Alms on Fridays and attend various Masses and Vespers, and for the true enthusiasts, for Lauds, too.</p><p>Phoebus wondered what on earth he was still doing here, now that Madellaine was awake and out of danger, and he wished to God that this wasn’t him that had been designed to have what he knew would be a very uncomfortable topic for Madellaine’s father.</p><p>He wished that he did not have to be the one to ultimately cause an upheaval in the young blonde’s life.</p><p>Were it the daytime, he could stay busy with his duties for the King’s Guard, the business of maintaining order in the city of Paris kept the Captain occupied. But it was when the world quieted, and the distractions stilled his mind when his past came back. Tonight was one such night where Phoebus was really starting to question all of his life choices.</p><p>Phoebus let out a haggard sigh and breathed in deep as he took a long slow swallow of the chalice of wine clutched in his hand, gripping the stem of his cup as though it were a lifeline. Lifting his head slowly, the Sun God swirled the red liquid in the goblet, allow the vintage drink to trail down his throat. It tasted like a 1470 Burgundy. <em>Not</em> a good year, though in this case, he would make an exception. It would take several more glasses of it for him to find even decent sleep this evening, he knew.</p><p>Phoebus closed his eyes, trying to keep his focus on the strength of the burning red alcohol. Suddenly, Madellaine’s father stirred up above, though he remained with his back turned. “Captain Phoebus,” called the low raspy voice he had not heard in, God, almost ten years, but would know anywhere. His brother’s commander. Lucien Barreau slowly swiveled at the waist and turned to regard the Sun God.</p><p>Captain Phoebus startled a bit but quickly recovered. It was still a bit of a shock to the golden-haired man to see a man whom he’d believed to be dead all these years now up and alive and walking around. It was a little unnerving if Phoebus was honest with himself.</p><p>“Monsieur Barreau,” Phoebus answered flatter than he would have liked, unsure of why his baritone voice held such dread as he regarded the man whom he knew wished him no ill will, or anyone else here, except maybe Quasi.</p><p>“It is good to see you, boy,” Lucien said hauntingly, his voice cracking and choking a bit. “You are looking well. I…apologize that I could not greet Laurent’s younger brother under better circumstances, preferably with him by your side.” Lucien Barreau shot Phoebus a wary look.</p><p>Phoebus nodded his tired gratitude. “As do you, sir,” he said, carefully studying Lucien. “Much better than the last time I saw you as a boy. You had an arrow sticking out of your leg.”</p><p>“Damned I did,” Lucien grunted, looking down at his leg, that had, as a result of such a war wound, caused him to walk with a slight limp for the rest of his life, but he was just as quick and spry as he had been at age thirty.</p><p>The pair of soldiers stood in awkward silence for a moment, with the men silently watching the marble statue of the Virgin Mary, the eternal mother surrounded by other statues, other angels out to defend the holy mother and baby Jesus. Lucien merely grunted in response.</p><p>It had taken Madellaine’s father far longer to reach Paris than the ranger had hoped. Esmeralda and Phoebus, once they’d caught word from a few of Clopin’s informants a few cities over (the man had spies all throughout Europe, not just Paris) it had been Phoebus the one who’d made sure his hiding place in Lucien’s home city of Saint Paul de Vence had been far away. In order to avoid detection by more undesirable parties who still wanted Barreau’s head on a spike for his war crimes in the name of the king, a man who’d made enemies of the wrong sort, he’d walked most of the way.</p><p>It hadn’t been an easy journey for the ranger due to the weather, terrain, and his age. Though he vowed to reach his daughter, his Lena, all that he had left of his Amelie, his great love. He was astonished at how much of a French Rose his daughter had blossomed into. Were her hair longer and to her shoulders, his Madellaine would be almost a spitting image of her lovely mother, the fair-haired beauty that had stolen away his heart when his garrison passing through her village one day had stopped, and she had given him a cup of water.</p><p>Broke and to the point of starvation, Lucien had been forced to halt his progress to reclaim his daughter from that band of wretched disgusting thieves she had taken up with several times and forced to take employment to get by, finding work wherever he could to put coins in his pocket and bread on the table to not die.</p><p>The work was grueling and backbreaking, but it had at least allowed the man to eat. He’d finally made it to Paris after nearly six months after traipsing about through most of Europe trying to follow the trail of the circus troupe that had taken his daughter, and always coming up short, missing their path by at least several weeks. It was more than beyond frustrating for the seasoned ranger, though in his aging years, it was growing increasingly more difficult to move around as he once did in the days of his youth, those days though, now long behind him.</p><p>Lucien Barreau’s lined and weathered face was deadly serious when he brought his cold, blue eyes up to meet Phoebus’s kinder hazel orbs, his jaw tightening as his teeth clenched.</p><p>“You truly have told my daughter <em>nothing</em>, boy?” he accused. “I did not expect my reunion with my little girl to be this…difficult, soldier.”</p><p>Phoebus exhaled a slightly shaking breath, able to smell the lingering scent of the wine spirits upon his breath, and looked towards the massive, vaulted ceiling, perhaps for courage. Or perhaps it was because he realized his wine goblet was now empty. No more liquid courage for him. Phoebus heaved a haggard sigh as he purposefully strode forward towards the furthermost pew and sat in the back of the nave.</p><p>“I thought that…Madellaine, given…recent developments in her life, would take the news not quite as you had <em>hoped</em>, hence we, th—that is to say, Esmeralda and I, didn’t send for you sooner. She’s grown to have a <em>life</em> here in Paris. Friends, people that she is quite fond of, monsieur. If you ask me, it would be a shame to uproot her from all that she has called home, sir.” <em>With that boy upstairs</em>, is what Phoebus almost said, but managed to refrain himself, knowing that sooner or later, her father would broach that topic of conversation that he was dreading at some point. “Your daughter’s awake and well, monsieur. My wife sent me down to tell you. Allow her a moment to compose herself, surely you can understand that the news that her father, a man whom she believed to be dead but is actually alive and well and here to see her less than an hour after waking up from surgery, would be of a shock to anyone, Lucien.”</p><p>Lucien Barreau gave Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers a truly withering look.</p><p>“Where is my daughter?” He eyed the Sun God ruefully. “Where is my Madellaine? Is she with that <em>thing</em>?” he growled through his gritted teeth.</p><p>Phoebus’s eyes grew even narrower, and he felt a surge in his temper swell as warmth, beginning in the pit of his churning stomach and seeping its way like poison to his chest until it formed into bitter bile at his throat that he forced himself to swallow back down then.</p><p>Phoebus felt something shift within himself as he puffed out his chest slightly, though he hoped he would be able to supplicate the older warrior in quelling the worst of his rage, not wanting discord in a House of God to break out if he could at all help it. The last thing he wanted was to cause Madellaine more stress and exacerbate her wounds.</p><p>It was he who would be forced to be the bearer of what would be, in Lucien’s mind, terrible news. Phoebus cringed to think of the man’s reaction, knowing his daughter was in fact, deeply in love with the hunchback of Notre Dame, and there were but two courses of action.</p><p>He inwardly begged the man not to take the second, but Phoebus could tell by the glint in the man’s burning blue eyes that his mind was more or less made up, and this conversation that was about to occur between the two of them was more or less a formality. “Where <em>is</em> he? Lucien, tell me,” Phoebus barked, his tone losing all semblance of warmth as he looked to the left and right for signs of whom he knew would be an unwanted visitor in Lena’s life.</p><p>“Diligently at his post where I told him,” was all Lucien answered stiffly in a cold manner.</p><p>The blood drained from Phoebus’s face, knowing what this would mean for his friends. He struggled hard to draw breath and fought simply to stand. “You really brought <em>him</em>?” he growled, hardly daring to believe it.</p><p>Lucien’s eyes narrowed until they were mere slits as he studied the younger soldier’s tanned and more handsome face. “Well, of course, I did,” he merely answered with a light shrug of his shoulders. “I have every right to, just as he has every right to see my Madellaine.”</p><p>“But she’s—” he started to say, though the words died upon his tongue as her father raised a sharp hand and cut off what he’d been about to say to Lucien Barreau next, preventing him from saying his piece. Phoebus let out a grunt. Phoebus’s eyes grew wide as he desperately searched Madellaine’s father’s face. “<em>Frederic</em>. My—my own lieutenant, sir. <em>Why</em>?”</p><p>It was all he could ask. Why him? Why now? And why Madellaine? Why? The one question that he could not answer, and the one query that Phoebus wasn’t sure he wanted a response to, and yet, he knew if he did not receive one, the ambiguity of not knowing the truth from Lucien’s own lips would drive him mad and perhaps even send his mind insane.</p><p>“My daughter, at least the last time I checked, was unwedded and well past the marrying age. I am an old man, Phoebus, and I should like to live long enough to see my only daughter be bidden to a man—a <em>normal</em> man, a handsome fellow like your lieutenant who will treat my little girl the way that she deserves.”</p><p>“B—but <em>why</em>?” Phoebus choked out, his voice hushed and faint as he looked upon the ranger with a look abject to horror in his eyes. He felt the world spin beneath him and grabbed at the back of the pew for support, thinking it was a good thing he was already sitting down, or he would have surely fainted.</p><p>Lucien shot Captain Phoebus a hardened glower and huffed in frustration. “Because I am her <em>father</em>. I have that <em>right</em>, Phoebus, as does any man with a little girl. Perhaps one day, if God sees fit to bless you and your lovely wife with children of your own, you will understand.”</p><p>Phoebus looked as though as if he had been punched in the gut. All his hopes of Madellaine recovering with little to no problems were crumbling to ashes. In an instant, his face turned sour as his expression became pained, his hazel eyes darkening until they were rage-filled pits, almost looking like hollow, sunken-in sockets.</p><p>“But what about Quasi? The boy upstairs? That man saved your girl’s life, sir. He has done nothing but protect your daughter. He cares for her. I would perhaps even venture to take it a step further and say he <em>loves</em> her, sir. I think that your daughter hopes to court him, that he would ask her if he could be her suitor. She’s given my wife and me no indication that she would turn him down, Lucien. <em>Sir</em>,” he added quickly, ever politely mindful of his feigned courtesy.</p><p>Lucien’s face paled in anger, his pale blue eyes losing their twinkling sheen and growing darker, flashing deadly and dangerous like lightning on a pitch-black night, looking as though he would prefer to be dead than to discuss the notion of his daughter in love with an accursed wretch who was half of a man. “Don’t call the <em>monster</em> that!” Lucien snapped, his cerulean orbs burning in rage.</p><p>“But that’s what he’s going to <em>be</em>, Monsieur Barreau, if Madellaine stays here,” Phoebus said, raising his eyebrows in alarm.</p><p>But the ranger shook his head, not able to believe what he had heard, nor was Lucien willing to accept the dialogue exchanged between himself and the cathedral’s bell ringer upstairs on the balcony terrace of his tower.</p><p>“<em>No</em>!” he began to shout, curling his calloused hands into fists and banging them on the headrest of the wooden pew in front of them. “She’s <em>supposed</em> to choose the man <em>I</em> picked out for her! Ser Frederic. The man saved my life not all that long ago when I first came to Paris, and I made him a <em>promise</em>. My daughter’s hand in marriage in exchange for getting me out of a rather tight spot with some bandits who seemed to mistake me for a vagabond.”</p><p>Phoebus listened, his understanding quickly giving way to incredulity. It did not matter in the soldier’s mind what promise his own lieutenant had been offered in exchange for saving his life. Frederic was a decent man, a good soldier, and would have helped any poor soul in need because that’s the kind of man he was, and why Phoebus had chosen him as his second-in-command, one day to take his place when Phoebus grew old and grey-haired at the temples and no longer wished to fight in battles.</p><p>“Were that you could have found Madellaine sooner, perhaps before she formed a connection with my friend, who I’ll kindly ask you to refrain from calling <em>names</em> in my presence,” Phoebus barked through gritted teeth as it was his turn to shoot Lucien an angry look. “Madellaine respects that boy and sees the same goodness in the man that I’ve always seen since meeting him last year. She brings out the best in him, and he in her. It would be a true sin if you were to separate the two now, old friend.”</p><p>Phoebus had seen this much for himself, the depression, guilt, and self-hatred that had consumed poor Quasi within the last two months of their argument and her disappearance. The guilt almost ate him alive when they realized she’d been injured. The depths of their feelings for one another, whether or not they were both aware, remained painfully obvious to him and Esmeralda, though it would be up to Quasi and Madellaine to figure it out for themselves in their own time at a pace the two were comfortable with.</p><p>Providing, of course, Lucien did not follow through with his plan to have her marry <em>him</em>.</p><p>“<em>How</em>?” Lucien demanded in a hoarse grunt. “How could my sweet girl love that <em>creature</em>?” He was certain there just had to be some reason, other than his Lena’s own heart, that would cause Madellaine to agree to become that accursed bastard wretch’s intended fiancée. He could not even begin to fathom that his own flesh and blood, his beloved daughter, would develop genuine feelings for such a thing.</p><p>Though he’d seen no ring on her finger, and to the best of his knowledge, the wretch upstairs had not made it known to his daughter of his feelings for her. Lucien looked towards Phoebus for understanding and silently waited impatiently for the golden-haired Sun God to manage to collect his thoughts. It took Phoebus a moment to find his voice.</p><p>“It’s my understanding that Quasi saved Madellaine’s life one night her first few nights here in Paris,” Phoebus answered casually with a light shrug of his shoulders. “After that, time together drew the pair close and has cemented their bond into something strong that I beg of you, if you have got a good head of sense on your shoulders because I <em>know</em> you do, sir, you won’t attempt to break that cemented bond, monsieur. <em>Please</em>. It would destroy your daughter’s heart and might cause a rift between you. You can put two people together, but you can’t make love grow between them like I think you’re hoping to do with your daughter and my own lieutenant. That comes on its own and in time, and I can almost assure you, monsieur, that Madellaine will not love Frederic. She loves Quasi. I think you need to accept that fact.”</p><p>Lucien shook his head in denial. “Perhaps she gave into the creature’s demands. It must have forced her into staying up in that drafty tower loft with it,” he conjectured, his voice a low grumble. He had not been there to draw his sweet Lena away from the monster’s lustful thoughts and urges towards his own daughter.</p><p>Phoebus shook his head. “I can faithfully assure you, old friend, that Quasi is <em>not</em> that kind of a man. And Madellaine is not the type of woman to give in to anything,” he scoffed, just a hint of admiration flitting through his kind hazel eyes as he thought of the blonde’s steadfast determination and her resolve.</p><p>His tone softened as the Sun God tried to explain, wishing his wife would have the sense to come down, or better yet, Alice. The cantankerous but still quite pretty nun was Lucien Barreau’s old friend, and perhaps even a flame once, judging by the way the man had looked at her out on the steps of Notre Dame. She’d know what to say to supplicate him some, better than Captain Phoebus ever could.</p><p>He was a man of action, not words. Words weren’t really his specialty, but he would try anyway. He owed Madellaine and Quasi that much.</p><p>“I’ve seen them together up in his tower, old friend, and out and about the town. She loves him and he loves her,” he told Lucien, hoping that at least knowing his own daughter was happy would calm him. “I’ve scarce ever seen two people in love like that. Your daughter has cemented a rare bond with him. T’would be a crime to pull her away from him.”</p><p>A smile flitted across Phoebus’s face in spite of himself as he had remembered how the two had looked at one another at the festival weeks ago. It seemed so long ago. But his expression only incensed Madellaine’s father’s anger even further as he yelled.</p><p>“<em>Frederic</em> is the one my daughter will love, boy, <em>not</em> that abomination from the depths of Hell itself. It can slink back into the shadows where it belongs, for all I care,” Lucien Barreau shouted, unable to hold his ire any longer. He slammed the flat of his palm down forcefully on the backrest of the pew they were in front of. “I’m going to go up there with her affianced, Phoebus. The time has come. Once she sees Frederic, the valiant and brave, and noble knight that he is, she’ll not be able to deny the boy is handsome enough and that he’s the best possible choice of a suitor for her. He will give my little girl a good life, an honest life.”</p><p>But Phoebus vehemently shook his head.</p><p>“Madellaine will not leave,” Phoebus said confidently, hoping the girl was of a coherent enough mind to re-lay her claim to the sanctuary within these walls while she healed. Enough to give them all time to come up with something to stave off Lucien’s ridiculous plan to tear her away from the boy whom Phoebus considered a friend very much. Perhaps one of his closest friends.</p><p>“Then I’ll <em>take</em> her, Ser Phoebus. As her father, I have that given right. It is high time I brought her home.” Lucien began creating options in his mind. “Ser Frederic could build her a small house on the outskirts of Saint Paul de Vence. Someplace where she could get an unobstructed view of the sky. I think she’d like that after being cooped up in a dank place up there,” he added, lifting his head to the ceiling as he referred to the bell ringer’s dark twin bell towers.</p><p>Phoebus stared at his brother’s former commander with utter disbelief and abject horror.</p><p>Had the man lost his <em>mind</em>? “I—I can guarantee you that Madellaine won’t let that happen.”</p><p>He looked earnestly towards Lucien, begging the older French gentleman to see even an ounce of reasoning, and feeling like this was truly a lost cause. But the glint in the man’s darkening cerulean orbs was more than enough of an answer for him.</p><p>“<em>No</em>!” Lucien slammed his fist against the thick oak of the wood of the pew the two men sat in front of. “My decision is <em>final</em> on this matter, Phoebus. You would be wise as a family friend not to contest it. Her hand has been promised to Ser Frederic, Captain. The two were meant to be together. I intend to ensure that my daughter sees that. We leave for home on the morrow.” The glint in Lucien’s blue eyes deepened.</p><p>Phoebus let out a growl of frustration that transformed into a mournful sigh. This was not at all going how he’d hoped. “Monsieur de Barreau, <em>please</em>.” He implored. “I <em>beg</em> of you, sir, please don’t <em>do</em> this.” His hazel eyes bore deeply into Lucien as if he thought the act could somehow force Madellaine’s father back to his senses that way and failing to do it.</p><p>Lucien drummed his fingers along the back of the pew, finally deciding upon the course of actions he had to take. He’d decided on this course long ago in Germany. He’d see his plan through or die trying.</p><p>His body tensed as he stiffly rose to his feet, groaning slightly at the flare of arthritic pain in his knees. “You’ll see, boy,” he vowed triumphantly, beginning to snake his way out of the pew and to head towards the front doors to fetch Lieutenant Frederic. “Your boy outside is going to win my daughter’s heart. The moment she looks into that kid’s brown eyes, she’ll swoon and forget all about that red-haired wretch upstairs that’s not even half of a man, Phoebus,” he snarled, crinkling his nose in disgust.</p><p>“He’s more of a <em>man</em> than <em>you</em> are, Lucien, for daring to do this to your own flesh and blood,” Phoebus snapped as his temper boiled to the surface.</p><p>He tried to stop him as Lucien stalked his way down the long aisle of the nave of the cathedral, heading towards the front doors with the intent of fetching Lieutenant Frederic and introducing him to his daughter. “Lucien, please don’t do this!” he called out, unable to disguise the note of desperation from seeping its way to the surface of his baritone voice.</p><p>Madellaine’s father stopped, turning to smile at Phoebus, his hands hovering over the brass handle of the doorknob.</p><p>“Just wait, boy,” he said, his mind already racing ahead to what it would be like to have his precious daughter back once again in his life. “Madellaine’s going to have the best possible life that I as her father can provide her. She’ll be happy with your lieutenant, of that much I can promise you, boy.”</p><p>And without another word, Lucien turned on his heels and wrenched open the door, departing through the wide oak double doors of the cathedral with the intent to fetch Lieutenant Frederic and bring him inside to introduce him to his beloved daughter.</p><p>Phoebus bolted forward on his heels. “Lucien!” the Sun God shouted desperately, running out onto the stone platform of the steps of Notre Dame’s entryway, only to find Madellaine’s father disappeared, having slipped into the shadows silently like the phantom the Sun God knew the ranger to be.</p><p>It was as if Lucien Barreau had never been there. Phoebus’s growing distress over Lucien’s plan gnawed at him as he restlessly paced the floor of the main level of the sanctuary of Notre Dame as he wildly tried to collect his thoughts. This was <em>not</em> good.</p><p>In his own way, Phoebus respected Lucien, the man being an old family friend of his father’s, and he wished that Lucien could have returned to Paris under better circumstances to find Madellaine waiting for him alive and well, not currently recovering and cohabitating with a man her father sorely disapproved of, to the point of forcing marriage upon her with another, and though Phoebus liked Frederic well enough, and had caught the handsome dark-haired young soldier eyeing Madellaine shyly with great interest behind the young blonde’s back when she thought Frederic wasn’t looking, the Sun God knew the two were not the right match for each other. Her heart belonged now to the bell ringer.</p><p>Madellaine was more than justified in choosing her own path. Phoebus recognized and understood that their friend was deeply in love with the hunchback of Notre Dame, and though polite society would never condone nor approve of such a match, there was no denying that Quasi was who her heart wanted, and for Lucien to take that from her was abhorrent, to say nothing short of despicable.</p><p>And yet…this was the way their world <em>worked</em>, daughters’ lives more or less governed by their father’s, wedded off constantly to men whom they did not love in order to sire heirs and produce children to keep the family lineage alive.</p><p>He suspected that Frederic would be a good husband to Madellaine, in time, would treat her well, as good as perhaps Quasi could.</p><p>But Phoebus knew that for the young mademoiselle, it would not be enough. To enter into an arranged marriage like this, would surely kill her fighting spirit and disillusion her to the point where she lost the will to find something that was worth her time fighting for.</p><p>It was a cruel injustice, but until the King changed the laws, that women were free to choose their own husband, there was nothing Phoebus could do about it in order to help their friend, at least, nothing permanent. She and Quasi had more or less made a life together up in the twin bell towers of Notre Dame, at least, prior to their awful argument.</p><p>Lucien had no right to disturb their…friendship, especially not now while Madellaine was in the midst of recovering from her wounds. Not hours after clinging onto her life by a mere thread, the only person who had been enough of a presence in her life to bring her back from that dark chasm, that endless abyss, had been Quasi, and—oh, Quasi! Phoebus blinked, his eyes widening in alarm.</p><p>This was sure to rip the boy’s heart from his chest when he learned the truth, when they both did, really, of her father’s intentions to marry her to <em>him</em>.</p><p>“Damn,” Phoebus swore through gritted teeth, before quickly realizing where he was and mumbling a half-hearted apology under his breath to God and His angels to forgive him for the blasphemous curse.</p><p>There was no other way to stop the disaster that promised to occur within a mere matter of minutes, perhaps a half-hour, tops, depending on how long it took for Lucien to find Lieutenant Frederic.</p><p>Phoebus felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he strode down the hallway to his left that headed towards the kitchens, desperately searching for any hint of a sign of Sister Alice’s whereabouts. Perhaps the cantankerous gossip hound of a nun could help him.</p><p>She and Lucien were once friends, perhaps even former lovers once before she’d married another and joined the convent when her Ser Robert had died of a complaint of the heart at age forty-eight.</p><p>Perhaps Alice would have better luck in reaching Lucien Barreau's thick-headed skull than Phoebus had.</p><p>The Sun God rapidly quickened his pace down the hall, wracking his brain for a way to quickly yet adequately describe Madellaine’s father’s intentions, and how he would beseech Lucien’s friend for help. After all, it was no secret among the other clergymen and even the parishioners here in the cathedral that Alice thought of the boy as her own son.</p><p>If anyone wished for Quasi to have a small semblance of happiness, it was the nun. Phoebus sighed as he barreled his way into Alice’s quarters, unannounced, not even bothering to raise his fist to knock and announce his presence to the flustered girl.</p><p>“<strong>ALICE</strong>!" he roared, momentarily forgetting proper edict in the presence of the nun. "Alice, this is urgent! I--I need to speak with you, madame! You’re not going to <em>believe</em> this, Sister!” Phoebus’s harsh bark of a voice startled the pretty nun as her hand shot up to her chest as if trying to stop her racing heart from bursting through her habit.</p><p>Her shoulder-length still luscious hair that had begun to grey at the temples hung loose, framing an oblong face, and despite a few more lines here and there on her forehead, and a few more wrinkles underneath the skin of her eyes, Alice was still quite pretty at the age of fifty and maintained a good figure.</p><p>Her twinkling blue eyes were infectious, though right now, they were anything but kind as she shot the golden-haired man a rather rueful glower.</p><p>“God <em>damn</em> you, Phoebus!” she stammered, immediately removing her feet from the large writing desk that she’d propped them up against while leaning back in her chair while she nursed a wineskin of wine. “You <em>scared</em> me!” Alice shouted angrily.</p><p>“Sorry,” Phoebus grunted in a tone that did not sound sorry at all as he strode into the nun’s personal chambers in just two quick strides and yanked on her arm, causing the nun to splash wine down her front. “But you have to come with me. It’s Lucien, Alice…”</p><p>Alice’s expression immediately became alarmed as Phoebus knew his words hit their mark. Her gait straightened as she rose shakily to her feet, shrugging out of Phoebus’s grasp as she set the wine flagon down upon the desk she’d been sitting at.</p><p>“What is it? Has something happened to him?” she questioned, feeling the worry worm its way to the pit of her stomach as she looked at Phoebus expectantly, pursing her lips into a thin, rigid line.</p><p>“He’s lost his <em>mind</em>, <em>that’s</em> what’s happened,” Phoebus barked hoarsely by way of a retort. “He’s betrothed that girl upstairs to my own lieutenant and means to take her away from the cathedral at first light before Madellaine's even fully recovered, that's what your old friend is up to, Alice.”</p><p>But before he could drag Alice out of her chambers and towards the stairwell that would take the two of them to the north bell tower’s loft, Alice gingerly shrugged out of Phoebus’s strong grasp.</p><p>Phoebus pivoted at the waist, a look of shock plastering its way across his features as he looked at Sister Alice, who was vehemently shaking her head.</p><p>“We <em>cannot</em> get involved, boy,” she began sincerely, a pained look in her burning blue irises. “Like it or not, Captain, Lucien <em>is</em> Madellaine’s father. He has every paternal <em>right</em> to wed his daughter to a man whom he deems worthy, like it or not that is the way that our society works. We cannot change the ways of the world or the law,” Alice explained hastily. “If we try to interfere on that girl’s behalf, we will only be making things worse for her and for the boy. It is the girl’s matter to sort out with her father, Ser.”</p><p>Alice halted, taking a moment’s breath, and steadying herself, desiring to give the appropriate amount of emphasis to her next words meant for the Sun God. Then her blue eyes turned steely, narrowing until they were mere slits that reminded Phoebus of a pit viper’s slit-like pupils as the nun glared at him.</p><p>“You need to understand this right now, that if you go up to his tower right now and try to interfere, though I know you have both their best interests at heart…” Alice’s tone left nothing for Phoebus to misinterpret.  “Then you’re going to wish that Lucien would have just <em>killed</em> you down here in the nave, boy. He’s not going to let anyone stop him once he’s made up his mind.” She swore, her pretty face never changing from her mask of cold anger at what her old friend was doing to his only child by uprooting her now so soon after just waking up from an injury that had almost claimed her life not once, but thrice, then.</p><p>She gestured with a wave of her arm for Phoebus to leave, indicating that she did not wish to speak any further on the subject, and bid him a disgruntled and half-hearted, “Goodnight and God Bless you, Phoebus,” before shooing him out of the room and gently closing the door in the man’s face.</p><p>Phoebus heaved a frustrated sigh as his feet felt like blocks of stone as he shuffled back down the hallway, barely able to lift his feet as he allowed himself to sink to the floor just outside the kitchens.</p><p>He could not bring himself to venture up to the bell ringer’s tower and give the pair of them the news that would shatter both their hearts and destroy their lives. In the dim light of the dank and dark corridor, the Sun God did not look as bright as he usually did.</p><p>Captain Phoebus appeared more a shadow of himself. All hope was lost for that girl and his friend.</p><p>Phoebus was certain that if Lucien did this to Madellaine tonight, forced her from her sanctuary, then she would never dare to love her father again.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Chapter 34</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The two finally make amends, Quasi asks Madellaine a question, and Lucien reveals a surprise.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My apologies for the delay in getting this posted! I had the next chapter or so all planned out and then decided it didn't work, and wound up re-writing it, and as a consequence, changed most of the remaining plot, haha. But I am happy to announce that I have already penned the first 5 chapters for a sequel to this story if you're interested in checking it out once this story is finished, though plot details of Book 2 won't be coming until the final chapter 40, so stay tuned for more!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>34</strong>
  
</p><p><strong>QUASI </strong>stared across the way at Madellaine, painfully wringing his hands together in immense discomfort, his nails piercing through the thick fabric of his gloves.</p><p>A figure nudged to his left. Laverne, and as he glanced down at the small stone gargoyle, he was not at all surprised to see the female guardian of the church was frowning at him sharply, her beady eyes narrowed.</p><p>In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what had drawn the gargoyle out of the shadows, or where Hugo and Victor were.</p><p>Knowing those two, probably fighting, he thought bitterly to himself, before shaking the thought away. He’d already concluded that chasing Madellaine away—God, but he’d left her alone to <em>die</em>—had been wrong and cowardly, and in his mind, unforgivable. So why was it Laverne had come to him at this time?</p><p>Maybe it was because Laverne was familiar with his spiraling spells of hatred and self-loathing, more so than Victor and Hugo were, who spent so much time arguing amongst themselves that it was an ordinary miracle that they were ever able to pay attention to him. Eventually, the silence seemed to weigh too heavily to be ignored any longer as Quasi summoned enough strength on his throat to talk to Laverne.</p><p>“I <em>rejected</em> her,” he murmured dully, unable to believe the very words that were now tumbling from his lips. The simple fact that a woman could love a wretch like him was almost unfathomable and he didn’t know what to do. “I just…couldn’t bear to see Madellaine get hurt.”</p><p>Almost never in his life had he run from his problems. He’d always managed to face them head-on with the help of his gargoyles, his friends, who never failed to provide him with a kind word of encouragement.</p><p>But once he realized that he was beginning to harbor unhealthy feelings for Madellaine, a terror previously known to the bell ringer had tugged at his heartstrings and had taken over his mind and body. This was not exactly something that he could fight, he’d realized. Whatever became of Madellaine, whether she forgave him or not, was out of his control.</p><p>Was she to accept his apology, and even dare to take a chance on a monster like him and enter into a courtship, to spend a night in love’s embrace after they were married, what kind of children would she bear him? Would his wickedness, his curse, his ugliness, be inflicted upon that of a small, innocent baby? Quasi shuddered at the very thought.</p><p>If any child they might have together would be born with his curse, there would be nothing Quasi could do to save their child. He would fail his child as a father, and he would fail Madellaine as her husband if he allowed it to occur.</p><p>“You <em>did</em>, Quasi,” confirmed Laverne in her warbling voice, reaching up with a bony stone arm to give his bicep an affectionate pat. She was looking at the hunchback sadly, and there was a strange regret in Laverne’s eyes that Quasi decided he did not like. “And she <em>did</em> get hurt. In more ways than one,” Laverne pointed out in a rather blunt manner. She looked tired.</p><p>“What am I going to <em>do</em>?” Quasi moaned in agonized despair, lowering his voice to a whisper as he caught Esmeralda eyeing him curiously with raised eyebrows, though she was too preoccupied in helping Madellaine change out of her shift and into something much more appropriate in order to receive her father.</p><p>“Well,” Laverne murmured thoughtfully as she scratched one of her horns and tapped her chin as she thought. “You could start by <em>apologizing</em> to her, Quasi. You should <em>talk</em> to the poor dear if she’s going to stay here, Quasi. She’s in no physical condition to be traipsing about the city with her wounds. You heard Esmeralda. Madellaine needs as much rest as possible over the next two to three weeks or else the poor dear could suffer from a relapse and another bad infection.”</p><p>A chill went down Quasi’s twisted vertebrae at just the very thought. “You should not be ashamed of this, boy. <em>Yes</em>, you made a terrible mistake in sending the poor child away, but I can see it in her eyes that she is willing to forgive you. It won’t be an easy task, in fact, it may prove to be quite monumental, but these sorts of things seldom are ever easy. You have a girl worth fighting for, son. The love you feel for that child is not a mistake, Quasi. If everything goes well and she says yes to courting you, and someday, if God Himself sees fit to bless you with any children you might have, if your baby is ah, born, well…like <em>you</em>,” Laverne stammered, gesturing towards a few of his deformities, “then they will have a father who understands them and can help through it. They’ll have a role model, a mentor. That will be invaluable to them growing up, Quasi, I guarantee it, but first things first, let’s not get ahead of yourselves. Start by apologizing, go from there and see what she says and where it takes you.”</p><p>Quasi flinched. The poor man was nearly hysterical at this point as he could only manage to hold Laverne’s stony gaze for just a few moments before he had to avert his eyes. Laverne’s words brought hot, stinging tears to his eyes that marred his already somewhat limited vision. He could hear the truth in them, but that was not enough to assuage his fears.</p><p>“B—but if we… if we ever…” he wildly gesticulated with his hands as a light pink blush speckled along his cheeks. “Even if we were to…one day have children if it’s not…like <em>me</em>…they will h-have to live with me. They’ll be at a disadvantage, having a monster, an accursed wretch, and a bastard for a father, Laverne. The world will never accept them, just as society is going to shun Madellaine if she stays here.”</p><p>Much to his surprise, the stone gargoyle shook her head, suggesting to the bell ringer that his guardian and companion disagreed with his uttered statement.</p><p>“The world is changing, Quasi,” Laverne said in a hushed voice, careful to keep her voice low so as to not attract attention from either Madellaine or Esmeralda as she clung to the shadows in the hopes of avoiding being seen. “I don’t know how it will just yet, but the world that you’ve been fighting for since last year, since your master’s death and good riddance and God bless his soul <em>not</em>,” Laverne whisper-hissed in a low growl as she bared her canines.</p><p>Her expression now currently truly did resemble the grotesque demon that she was painted as, “Then in this new world, your wife and child, should Madellaine say yes to what you ask and agree to start a family with you when the two of you are ready, your child will be at anything but a disadvantage, Quasi. You have to <em>trust</em> me on this.”</p><p>Quasimodo had no response to that. But Laverne, however, wasn’t finished as she looked at him with a pointed look and flexed her wings momentarily. She watched and waited as the twenty-two-year-old bell ringer fumbled, mumbling a curse under his breath as he dug into the pockets of his tunic and procured a simple pair of yellow gold wedding bands.</p><p>It had been one of the only few belongings salvageable from when his mother had died upon the front steps of Notre Dame, the Archdeacon had told him last year, shortly after Frollo’s death and Quasi had learned the truth. How his mother had died trying to save him.</p><p>The Archdeacon had given them to the bell ringer in the hopes the boy would one day find his own small measure of happiness in this world if he were to meet a young mademoiselle who was kind and pure of heart enough to look past the exterior and see what lay beneath the surface.</p><p>A handsome man with a heart of gold and perhaps the kindest soul in the city of Paris. Laverne reached up a finger and touched at the wedding rings, making sure that Quasi was looking at it.</p><p>Laverne shot Quasi a reassuring and hopeful little smile. “We <em>know</em> what you want to ask her, kid. We couldn’t be happier for ya, truly. But when you marry her, if she says <em>yes</em>, you make a <em>promise</em>, Quasi. You promise to always stand beside her, and by extension, any children that God might bless the two of you with. That means no more running."</p><p>Laverne’s black marble eyes clouded over as the stone gargoyle wandered deep in lost thoughts for a moment before coming back to herself and shaking her head in slight frustration. Her eyes met Quasi’s blue ones, her expression steely.</p><p>“What are you going to do?” she asked, feeling that she already had the answer. Yet, she wanted to hear Quasi say it himself.</p><p>His voice broke when he asked it, but Quasimodo needed to get his question out. “H—how…how am I supposed to ask her for forgiveness?” he whispered, self-hatred lacing its way into his voice. “God, but she must <em>hate</em> me for what I am, what I’ve <em>done</em> to her,” he growled through his clenched teeth.</p><p>Laverne just arched a stone eyebrow and pointed at the wedding bands cupped in his gloved outstretched palm before she reached up a hand and curled his fingers protectively enclosed over the rings.</p><p>Her answer to Notre Dame’s distraught bell ringer was clear as she melted back into the darkness.</p><p><em>Try</em>.</p>
<hr/><p><strong>IT</strong> took some effort, though eventually, Esmeralda was able to escort Madellaine out onto the bell tower’s balcony loft, with a wooden chair already set in place for her to sit as she was entirely too weak to walk so soon after waking. Esmeralda helped Madellaine to dress in a dark forest green flex linen long tunic with black linen accents that was loose and flowing and wouldn’t brush against her bandages or become too constricting when her wound needed to be allowed to breathe, lest it becomes re-infected for a second time.</p><p>She tried her best not to stare at anyone in particular, particularly Quasi, while she allowed Esmeralda to escort her out onto the balcony, not protesting as she was gingerly guided to sit into the chair and had a thick woolen blanket draped over her lap. Esmeralda promised to return with a meal for her and Quasi shortly, though even just the thought of food was enough to rouse nausea in her stomach and bile creeping to the back of her throat at just the concept.</p><p>Her first focus was struggling to process the fact that her father was <em>alive</em>.</p><p><em>After all this time</em>?!? Her mind felt like it was utterly reeling. As her mind began to swim out of the depths to which it had rested while she’d lain unconscious and feverish in Quasi’s sleeping nook, the bell ringer was the first thought that broke through the darkness. She could remember waking up in confusion, unsure of for a moment where she was, and where Quasimodo was, though she remembered pain and fear, coupled with a scorching heat that burned her insides and twisted her intestines so badly, but…<em>why</em>?</p><p>More questions than she had answers muddled her mind and clouded her thoughts. And Quasi. He’d been right by her side every minute. She had seen him.</p><p>They’d spoken, and she couldn’t be sure, though she would swear to God and His Angels above that the man had kissed her brow. She’d heard him speak words she never thought another man would say to her, ever. Madellaine had been so certain the man had been a phantasm, a figment of her own tortured mind that had come to spirit her soul away into Heaven itself. But then she realized the church’s bell ringer was well and truly alive. She could not understand what it had all meant. And now her <em>father</em> wished to see her?</p><p>Even now, she saw him as the heavy footfalls of his slightly uneven gait caused by his limp reached her eardrums, causing the young blonde ex circus-performer to slowly swivel her head. The gentle giant’s towering form came into her line of sight and he shot her a relieved but nevertheless nervous-looking smile.</p><p>His gloved hands were shaking so hard that the man had to ball them into fists, no doubt to prevent himself from striking out against something in anger.</p><p>But not a wave of anger with <em>her</em>, or so Madellaine thought, but anger and self-loathing for himself. She recognized the look in the man’s darkening cerulean orbs, having seen it a time or two herself in her own reflection whenever she was forced to look in a mirror.</p><p>Madellaine stiffened and drew in a sharp breath as the man darted forward almost with an inhuman speed so fast that she had not the time to blink her lids. He dropped into a kneeling crouch on his knees, one of his gloved hands clasping hers, and brought it to his knuckles for a gentle kiss that sent a tremor down her spine.</p><p>She cringed, wishing Quasi would stand up. The two of them were <em>equals</em>. She did not wish for the man to place her on a pedestal so. Not like this.</p><p>As Madellaine stared watching the bell ringer’s skittish behavior as he began to fret and fuss over her, she remembered other things. She recalled the night of the festival. The love she felt for Quasi, the kiss she had given him. She relived his touch, the several kisses they had shared after their first. Madellaine wondered if Quasi regretted them, and that was why he’d sent her away. She’d begged him not to, to believe that he was more than just a monster created by Judge Claude Frollo.</p><p>The very thought chilled her blood in her veins to ice until her teeth chattered. “D—do you need another blanket, Madellaine?” Quasi asked nervously.</p><p>Out of the corner of her peripherals, as the towering bell ringer stood off to the side, she could tell he was nervous as to what her response would be. The man was practically quaking in his leather boots, and his fingernails were digging so far into the material of his thick leather hide gloves he wore to protect his hands from the bells’ harsh ropes and the bitter cold breezes, that his nails had almost punctured a hole in them. She shook her head to herself but didn’t answer.</p><p>As she waited for her father to appear at the threshold that separated the balcony terrace from Quasi’s bell tower loft, her eyes fell upon Quasi, her face registering what could only be described as anger, after her initial shock at realizing she was alive wore off.</p><p>She reddened in anger at the fact that the man rejecting her feelings and more or less sending her away had resulted in her almost dying at the hands of Sarousch. Madellaine felt like she was barely able to draw in a good breath through the stunning fervor and paralyzing hurt that washed over her battered body.</p><p>She sat stiffly in her chair and looked away, huffing in frustration, and wincing in pain as she tried to shift in her seat, and only succeeded in sending a flaring jolt of pain up her right side. Madellaine’s glower as she kept her gaze fixated on the entryway, waiting for her father to appear made poor Quasimodo feel the size of an insect.</p><p>He’d not meant to hurt her and wished that she would say something—<em>anything</em>— to her. His only concern at this moment was how Madellaine must be feeling, both physically and mentally. His pained azure eyes watched her from behind.</p><p>Even through the thickness of the long green tunic she wore, Quasi could see the unintended quickness of her breaths and hear her heart thumping.</p><p>Quasi ached to talk with Madellaine, to say something that would bring her some small modicum of peace and comfort and ease her pain and distress. They were but mere paces from each other as he reluctantly relinquished his grip on her hand and backed away, recognizing that his friend needed space.</p><p>He’d never felt so distant from anyone in his entire life. Still. Now was his chance before Lucien came out onto the terrace. Now might be his one and only opportunity to speak with her alone in private. A quick glance to the left and right told Quasi that not even Victor, Hugo, and Laverne were listening in now.</p><p>The path to her was clear, he had to try. Taking a guarded step forward and once more kneeling by her chair, he winced as the cold and grit of the harsh stone beneath him dug into the material of his linen pants.</p><p>“Madellaine?” he whispered as he reached a shaking hand and clasped his right hand over hers, which had gone bone-white and curled over the arm of her wooden chair in an effort to steady herself. His voice was soft and gentle. She gasped as if a loud clap of thunder had startled her. She did not turn to look at him, though Quasi felt her relax slightly at his touch.</p><p>It was a start. Exhaling a shaking breath through his nose, he tried again. “I—I’m…<em>sorry</em>….” He cringed as the words left his mouth. He knew there was nothing that he could say in his defense that would excuse or condone the hurt and suffering he’d caused.</p><p>He swallowed down thickly past the lump in his throat and blinked back the beginnings of briny tears. Madellaine’s fixed, emotionless expression as she calmly studied him both frightened and worried him, but Quasi continued.</p><p>“Th—thank God you’ve come back to us. I—w—we were all worried about you, Madellaine, I—I didn’t…I didn’t mean for this to h-happen,” he stammered. Quasi bit his bottom lip as Madellaine turned her gaze away from him and looked instead out towards the bustling City of Lovers, though now it was quiet, bathed in the glowing light of the moon.</p><p>The poor man was hysterical at this point by now. His lungs burned as the biting air thrashed in and out of him at a speed that he could not control for the life of him. The thundering of his heart in its cage numbed his chest until he wished he could rip it out himself. He was sure slick tears would fall from his eyes at any moment as he tried in vain to fight down the salty liquid. After a moment of deafening silence as he waited for Madellaine to collect her thoughts, she spoke, her voice sounding much too flat and listless.</p><p>“I should <em>hate</em> you,” she answered flatly, still not looking at him and gingerly shrugging her hand away from his ironclad grasp, causing him to flinch back in both hurt and surprise, but what should he have expected? That she’d just forgive him just like that?!?</p><p>“I—I sh—should never h—have sent you away,” Quasi stammered, knowing all too well that what had happened to his beloved friend was entirely his fault. “A—and you have every right to hate me,” Quasi agreed, lowering his eyes, allowing that stubborn lock of his fiery red hair to fall in front of his eyes, effectively shielding his disdain and heartbreak from Madellaine.</p><p>A lump formed in his throat as his breaths stuttered and he could not quell the sob that bubbled its way through him as his broad, tall form violently shook as he continued to kneel at her side, his hands curling around the armrest of her chair for his support.</p><p>“I—I am <em>sorry</em>,” he whispered hoarsely in a trembling voice, amazed he could summon the strength enough to speak at all as his body still shook.</p><p>Madellaine felt something ugly rise within her chest as a fiery warmth spread throughout her body. It took her a moment to realize that it was her rancor. “I should have my father take me away from this place,” she continued, fixing Quasi with a steely icy gaze as he slowly lifted his chin, fearful to look her in the eyes. Yet he could not seem to pull away. “I should leave this place, and swear that I will never see you again, Quasi.”</p><p>Quasi’s heart broke and shattered into an untold number of fragments. He knew Madellaine was right. What else had he possibly expected from her? He had no right to hope for anything at all from his friend.</p><p>He sat gravely by her chair on his knees, unable to speak, his throat utterly screaming for some relief.</p><p>Madellaine paused for a moment and then forged ahead. “I <em>should</em>,” she whispered, her faint, sweet voice almost lost on the bitter breeze that carried, as her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. “But I <em>can’t</em>,” she managed to gasp out in a pained sob.</p><p>Quasi felt his breaths catch in his throat as he raised his brows and cautiously looked up at the young blonde. Surely it was too much to hope the woman who he knew now to be hopelessly and desperately in love with would accept him, and yet, he found himself wishing for it so badly that it was almost an ache now.</p><p>Madellaine began slowly, swallowing down hard in an effort to stem the tears forming behind her crystalline-blue eyes. “Wh—when I left the cathedral that night, I—I stood outside on the front steps and I prayed that the ground would open up and swallow me whole after you dismissed me,” she whispered faintly.</p><p>“Madellaine, no,” pleaded Quasi desperately, needing to tell her the real reason he had rejected her.</p><p>But Madellaine held up a bandaged hand and promptly cut the bell ringer off, fixing him with a withering stare that would have turned him to stone, as if she were the Greek monster Medusa. Eerily enough, her cold glacier stare made Quasi feel frozen.</p><p>“Please. Let me <em>finish</em>,” Madellaine growled. Taking a deep breath, Madellaine forced herself to speak her honest feelings that she needed to reveal to him. It was time that Quasimodo knew the whole truth.</p><p>“I <em>tried</em>,” Madellaine continued painfully, her breaths coming in quickened gasps that promised the sobs that would turn her hoarse voice into a pitiful mewling whimper from days of not speaking at all. “I tried to put you away in the dark recesses of my mind. To make our time together here in the church nothing more than a distant memory. But… I just can’t do it.”</p><p>“I—I shouldn’t have. I should have been there for you by your side. I—if I had, Sarousch wouldn’t have…” But his voice choked back a sob, unable to bring himself to say the words. “I—I couldn’t let you…”</p><p>“You <em>made</em> your choice,” Madellaine replied coldly. “And you didn’t choose <em>me</em>, Quasi. But I…I <em>care</em> for you, more than you realize, my friend,” she replied.</p><p>Unlike a second ago, Madellaine’s voice was so fragile, like that of glass or of the finest china, and Quasi was immediately filled with the fear that he would just be hurting the young blonde all over again.</p><p>Were this even a few weeks ago, or even months, their argument as fresh as it had been back on the night they’d argued and the entire congregation and church had undoubtedly heard their raised voices coming from his tower loft, he might have lied to Madellaine.</p><p>But now, after all these agonizing weeks, months laying awake with only his own mind and the gargoyles for company, his lonesome days filled with self-hatred as he imagined how Madellaine must have hated him, knowing she’d never smile at him again…</p><p>“<em>No</em>!” Quasi heard himself saying hastily, his voice laced to the brim with copious amounts of guilt as he shifted his weight to his other knee and clutched onto her hand even tighter. Though this time, thank God, he felt the young blonde relax in his grip slightly.</p><p>Notre Dame’s bell ringer flinched as he saw the exact same fear reflected back in the almond-shaped crystalline blue eyes he had grown to love so much.</p><p>“Is that <em>really</em> what you think?” Quasi asked faintly as he closed his eyes in regret. “There was no choice to make at the time. I had no other <em>choice</em>.” His tenor-like tone became urgent, trying to get his friend to understand the truth, why he was not good for her.</p><p>“I see.” Madellaine lowered her eyes, biting the wall of her cheek as she misunderstood Quasi’s meaning. Had he never intended to let her stay with him then? Had she merely been dreaming the fool’s dream when she’d been hoping he would ask to court her?</p><p>Had the kiss they shared, the growing love she could sense between them, nothing more than a lustful moment that had meant absolutely nothing to Quasi?</p><p>“Is that really supposed to make me <em>feel</em> better?” she challenged hotly, her face draining of color. Quasi fell silent, not sure what to say. “There’s <em>always</em> another choice! Your master is <em>dead</em>, Quasi. You’re free now to make your own choices, carve your own path in your life, so to speak,” she muttered. “If you don’t want me in a romantic sense, then…Then…why am I <em>here </em>now?”</p><p>As if to emphasize her point, she gestured with one of her bandaged hands towards the balcony terrace. She glanced towards the entryway for any sign of her father but saw no sign of the man whatsoever.</p><p>“Y—you’re here because I want you to be. Because…because I missed you, Madellaine, and because I…” Quasi hesitated, unsure if he could bring himself to say the three words that he knew he could never take lightly. Words that meant far too much for him to be taken for granted.</p><p>Words that he never thought he would dare say to another woman before.</p><p>Nevertheless, he forced himself to continue. She needed to hear him confess it to know how serious he was. “You’re here because I <em>love</em> you. I…have for a while…I love you,” he pleaded, cringing as a flicker of anger darted in her eyes, and he knew immediately that the moment the words left his mouth that he’d made a grave mistake.</p><p>Madellaine’s face had gone ashen, taking on a sickly greyish tinge that immediately caused worry to worm its way to the pit of Quasimodo’s stomach. She looked as though she were about to be violently sick.</p><p>“You <em>love</em> me?” the blonde shot back vehemently. “<strong>YOU REJECTED ME</strong>!” she bellowed, unable to hold in her anger towards her friend a second longer as her nails dug into the skin of her bruised palms. The hurt in her voice was too much for him to bear, and yet, Quasi knew he had to endure it for her.</p><p>Quasi cringed. He’d not wanted to distress Madellaine in her current vulnerable physical state with the horrors and nightmares that had plagued his mind the night that they had argued when he realized that developing feelings for her had more or less put Madellaine in grave danger.</p><p>The other Parisians would ostracize her for choosing him, Quasi was sure of this.</p><p>Seeing Madellaine now desperately searching his face for answers, Quasimodo knew he had to tell her the truth. “Alright. Yes, I made a choice,” he shot back. “I—I chose <em>you</em>!” he growled, growing angry himself as Quasi could feel himself growing defensive.</p><p>His words confused Madellaine, and she stared at him, her thin eyebrows knitted together in concern. Quasi continued, sensing the confusion on her face was a good thing. It meant she was willing to listen and perhaps hear him out, at a minimum. He did not rise to his feet, choosing instead to remain on his knees by her side and clutched onto her tiny, bandaged hand.</p><p>“I chose that you should live and be untouched by the curse of my own wickedness. I chose to keep you <em>safe</em>. What the people would do to an angel like you if they were to find out that I…that I…” Quasi swallowed.</p><p><em>Love you</em>, is what he wanted to say, though his tongue felt like clay in his mouth, heavy, and refused to let him speak it. But he hoped his message was evident and as plain as the nose on his face. Madellaine gaped. He had to say it. It was now or never.</p><p>Quasi closed his eyes for a moment and steeled his nerves. Taking a shaking breath, he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch and a nerve behind his eye tick in growing fear.</p><p>“If the people of Paris discovered how much I—I love you, or that I—I want to—to be with you, to—to court you, if you’ll have a wretch like me, they will <em>kill</em> you.” His stomach churned at the unpleasant thought. “You would have to be incredibly careful going throughout the city alone. I can’t let that happen. Not to you, Madellaine. <em>Never</em>.” He shook his head and ground his teeth in ire.</p><p>Quasi went on exposing himself to the bitter, painful truth he had lived with these last two months.</p><p>“I—I wanted to come after you, several times, but I—I couldn’t do it. I <em>wanted</em> to, but I <em>couldn’t</em>. The only thing that I could think of was keeping you safe. Because…because I am <em>this</em>,” he growled bitterly, gesturing towards himself with a gloved hand by tugging on a fistful of his thick green woolen tunic and his thick wavy ginger hair. “And you’re…so beautiful.”</p><p>Madellaine visibly startled and raised her shocking blue eyes to Notre Dame’s bell ringer, shooting him a pained look as though he had slapped her across the face. “Why would you even say that to me?” she asked, looking stricken as her lips parted.</p><p>Quasi stared, dumbfounded. He swore he could almost see her heart-shattering in her wide blue eyes that were brimming at the edges with her unshed tears.</p><p>His words had been intended as the highest compliment. “I…<em>what</em>?” he asked uncertainly, the pit of his stomach hallowing at the blonde’s crestfallen expression. In some way just now, he’d definitely overstepped. “I…I don’t understand…” Quasimodo hesitated, painfully wringing his gloved hands together until they hurt for about the tenth time since she’d woken up. He wracked his brain trying to comprehend the unintended insult he had apparently given the girl.</p><p>She did not let him finish. Madellaine’s face drained of color as she stared at Quasi indignantly and with a look of disbelief and unimaginable hurt plastered across her face.</p><p>“You chose the most hateful word I’ve ever heard spoken to me by Sarousch to describe me?” Madellaine asked rhetorically, her breaths appearing as puffs of cold vapor in front of her lips as her breathing and her heart rate quickened.</p><p>“H—<em>hateful</em>?” Quasi repeated, feeling at a loss for words. “N—no, th—that’s not what I meant,” he stammered, desperate to correct his apparent mistake. “I—I only meant to praise you, from my heart,” he swore, reaching and taking her bandaged hands in his.</p><p>Madellaine immediately cast her eyes down to her bare feet and tried to shrug her hands from the man’s ironclad grasp but Quasi’s grip only tightened. “I am not beautiful, Quasi,” she told him, tears escaping her closed lids and falling on top of the blanket that was draped across her lap for warmth.</p><p>Quasi continued to kneel at her side, desperate to get up and wrap his arms around the young woman, to do whatever she asked of him to take away her pain. He did not know how to help her, but all that he knew was that someone he cared for, someone he loved, was falling apart visibly right in front of him, and here he knelt, his knees utterly killing him, powerless to help her.</p><p>“You are to <em>me</em>,” he told her softly. “The most beautiful creature a <em>monster</em> like me has ever had the privilege to look at with my wretched sight. An angel in the company of a devil,” Quasi said.</p><p>But Madellaine shook her head, looking even more horrorstruck at being called an angel.</p><p>“<em>Don’t</em>. Please. If you’ve any decency left for me at all, my friend, don’t say that to me again, Quasimodo, please,” she begged, biting down on her bottom lip, <em>and</em> sticking it out in a slight pout as more tears escaped her lids. “If you knew the things Sarousch made me do, you’d never call me that again. I’m no angel, and I’m not beautiful. I do not like that word,” Madellaine explained hastily through her sniffling sobs, her voice halting with the hint of what Quasi knew to be painful memories for her. “M—Master Sarousch never used to refer to me with any semblance of kindness or honesty,” she said.</p><p>Unable to bear looking the man she loved in his darkening blue eyes as the shadow of something dark lurking within the man’s heart flitted across his eyes as he thought of Sarousch, she turned her chair from him and looked out at the city of Paris.</p><p>She sat with her back to him in a heavy, uncomfortable, and ominous silence that made him feel wretched, even more so than he usually did, which was saying something.</p><p>Quasi opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He longed to take Madellaine in his arms and kiss her again in the hopes of taking away the pain she had ever suffered while under Sarousch’s thumb, much of which he’d caused.</p><p>His strong arms ached for the feel of her, his lips starved for another kiss after two months bereft of feeling her lips moving in sync with his in a gentle kiss.</p><p>His body instinctively reacted to her presence and the desire within him that Master Frollo had always warned him against, but now that the man was dead, Phoebus said these so-called urges were normal, that pretty girls tended to invoke strange reactions at times. For a long moment, he stood towering over a hair’s breadth from Madellaine as she sat in her chair, intoxicated by the blonde ex-circus performer’s beauty and at an utter loss for what to say to the woman who held his heart.</p><p>Madellaine, for her part, could not hold Quasimodo responsible for her discomfort. She’d never told him how Sarousch (and to a less extent, Yaga!) had twisted and warped the very meaning of the word until it became a mockery. She’d never told Quasi or Esmeralda or Phoebus how the word affected her so.</p><p>She’d not spoken once of how those painful injuries and memories inflicted upon her own image of herself.</p><p>How could she possibly have woven such a tale for the man she loved and for their friends? In her mind, Quasi was the very epitome of the word beautiful, despite his looks, which were not all that bad as the young man made them out to be. In fact, she found him to be rather dashing and handsome once you looked past the slight contusion and the small hump near his shoulder. He was tall, a gentle giant, really, his thick red hair and sparkling blue eyes, gentle white smile, were easily the man’s best physical traits.</p><p>What did that make <em>her</em>, then? Madellaine Renee de Barreau, an ex-circus performer? Short, petite, and awkward, fumbling over her own words, not to mention her own two feet with how much of a klutz she could be at times and dead clumsy, really.</p><p>Madellaine was keenly aware of Quasi kneeling beside her, to her right. She could almost hear his own heart beating within his broad, muscular chest. It sent an uncontrollable shudder down her spine to feel his warm hand clasped over the top of hers in an iron grip.</p><p>Was that his hand at her waist as he adjusted his stance and scooted himself a fraction of an inch closer?</p><p>Were those his lips that grazed across the surface of her cracked and bruised knuckles despite her bandages? She felt her legs go weak, feeling grateful she was already settled down in this chair as her eyes closed to savor the bell ringer’s nearness, the oxygen sighing from her chest as she let out a contented tiny sigh. Quasimodo was all she wanted. But then as quickly as she allowed herself to succumb to the longing, Madellaine managed to snap herself out of it. She stopped herself from becoming lost any further in the bell ringer’s enticing silent promises to her. Unable to face the man, she turned her head sharply to the left, not wanting to look into Quasi’s brilliant blue eyes and see the disappointment within.</p><p>When Quasi did manage to regain control over his voice again, his tenor-like tone was calm, determined, and filled with love and affection for her.</p><p>“Please believe me, m—my intent was only to portray you with the only word that came to my mind,” Quasi confessed in a pained voice. “But now that I understand your hatred for the word, I’ll think of another word I can use to describe you as I see you, Madellaine,” he whispered, rising slightly from his position of kneeling on the terrace floor to give his knees a break. He paused, longing to complete the path he’d started, and rested his kiss upon her cheek that immediately set her whole face ablaze and flushed with color. With a low murmur, he continued. “Alluring. Ethereal. <em>Lovely</em>,” he swallowed down hard, overcome with desire for her as he finished, stepping even closer.</p><p>She drew in a breath as he paused to uncurl her clenched hands, which were gripping tight onto the armrests of her chair for support against a painful spasm that was currently shooting up Madellaine’s right side. “<em>Mine</em>,” he whispered in a hopeful tone, unable to stop the tiny smile that curved the edges of his lips upward in his first genuine smile in weeks. “I—it was my hope th—that I could…if you would let me court you?” he stammered, stepping back slightly to study her expression as Madellaine studied the rings.</p><p>She fell silent for several moments as she looked at the rings. “Yes,” she whispered, lifting her gaze, and studying Quasi with tear-filled eyes. “You’re such a good man, Quasi. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to you that night. I’ve regretted my behavior every second,” she choked out. “I should have kissed you,” she said remorsefully, biting down on her bottom lip in anguish.</p><p>Her tone softened towards him as she reached up a shaking hand as he knelt once more now that his knees had a break and touched his face, the hardened wall she’d built around her heart since their fight crumbling. He lowered his face in reverence. “You say that you love me, Quasimodo?” she asked, feeling already sure of the man’s answer he would give.</p><p>“With all my heart,” Quasi nodded as he gazed upon her with anticipation and sudden fear. “Without you, there is no world for me, no life, no light.” He looked up at her, heartfelt tears in his blue eyes. “I have suffered what it means to be without you by my side. I know that pain.” He shook his head regretfully. “I don’t want to go through that ever again. I—I lost you once, I almost lost you twice. But not a third time. There are no words to express how deeply and utterly I love you and adore you.” His expression was far too serious for tears now. “You’ve given a monster like me a life I could never in a million years dream of having for myself. It’s one filled with unconditional love, trust, honor, happiness.” His blue eyes searched her gaze and found only adoration returned to him as he confessed his innermost thoughts. “I lay my heart now at your feet, for it is yours. It’s always been yours, and will stay that way until my dying breath, which hopefully, is a long time from now.”</p><p>As Madellaine silently watched Quasi, she drew in a shallow breath and held it, afraid she’d dissolve into a mass bout of weeping at his confession.</p><p>Finally, Quasi could hold in his plea no longer. “Madellaine Renee Barreau, will you marry me? Would you do me the extraordinary honor of being my wife?” he whispered, praying to God she would say yes to him.</p><p>Gleefully, Madellaine nodded, unable to find her voice as she handed the rings back for him to hold onto for safekeeping until the time came to wear them.</p><p>“Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” she choked out through her happy sobs, reaching for him, and feeling thankful he did not protest when she engulfed him in a tight hug.</p><p>She’d never felt such happiness. Quasi felt as if the sun had risen after a million years clinging to the darkness. He’d found Madellaine and she was on her way to recovering after nearly dying from her wounds and the fever that had followed her infection. Now, she was returning the love that he could at last openly declare.</p><p>His joy could not be contained and before he could stop himself, Quasi shyly pressed his lips to Madellaine’s and found them as equally starved as his. Her bandaged, trembling hands raked through his thick red hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.</p><p>Their kiss was passionate and sweet and pure as the pair basked in each other’s presence, though it was quickly interrupted by the sound of a man coughing to clear his throat.</p><p>The pair broke apart instantly and backed away from each other as though their very nearness had burned one another as Madellaine let out a breathy squeak, looking for the source of the voice. A man lingered resting against the cold stone wall of the balcony terrace, having crept out onto the platform as silent as a shadow. They’d not heard him.</p><p>Madellaine turned in her chair and stared wide-eyed at the older man who looked astonishingly familiar, as though she had seen him somewhere before, though she’d never met her father before, ever.</p><p>“Please excuse my behavior, I did not mean to interrupt such a <em>touching</em> moment,” the man grunted in a gruff and voice hoarse that sent a chill down her spine, his voice calm and controlled as he bowed towards Madellaine without sparing Quasi so much as a second glance. She silently seethed, grinding her jaw. “But I have some unfinished business between myself and my <em>daughter</em>. I would like to ask your permission if I may speak to her in <em>private</em>, boy, if at all possible.” The blond-haired man shot Quasi a steely glower.</p><p>Lucien Barreau huffed in frustration as he turned to look towards Quasi. It was obvious that Madellaine’s father was speaking to him more so than to anyone else, as Phoebus and Esmeralda had appeared on the terrace as well, expression of immense displeasure and disgust towards her father evident on their faces.</p><p>This troubled Madellaine and sent a chill down her spine, but she could not figure out just why.</p><p>“O—of course,” Quasi stammered hastily, turning away from Madellaine immediately as his eyes shifted between Madellaine and her father, his now-betrothed was shooting the older man a look of daggers that surely would have killed him from where she sat without her having to even so much lift a finger to do it.</p><p>He shot Madellaine one last longing look as he strode towards where Phoebus and Esmeralda stood waiting, pausing only once to see Phoebus’s familiar-looking dark-haired lieutenant, Ser Frederic, shuffle alongside Lucien, shooting the bell ringer a glower.</p><p>Quasi stiffened but did not offer any sort of verbal greeting, save for to introduce him to Madellaine. “M—Madellaine, th—this is your father, Lucien Barreau.”</p><p>Madellaine nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off Lucien. Though after a moment, her gaze nervously flitted towards Phoebus’s handsome lieutenant, a man she somewhat recognized. He was a kind man, dark-haired and dark-eyed. A good build beneath his tunics and armor, and sweet if not shy, though for the sake of proper edict, she spoke to him.</p><p>“And who is this, Papa?” she breathed, her voice sounding hoarse from lack of using it these last three days she had been unconscious in her feverish state.</p><p>Lucien strode forward and placed a consoling hand on his daughter’s shoulder before straightening his gait and looking proudly towards Lieutenant Frederic with a look of pride evident upon his features.</p><p>“A man whom I made a <em>promise</em> to upon my first night entering this city, my love,” Lucien said, stooping slightly at the waist to plant a gentle kiss upon her brow. “This kind, young man saved my life. I offered him up the only thing that I could think of, darling. Madellaine, my flower, my dove, I would like to introduce you to your betrothed, Lieutenant Frederic.”</p>
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<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Chapter 35</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>35</strong>
  
</p><p><strong>MADELLAINE</strong> felt certain this was a horrible prank. It just had to be, the young woman was certain of this... wasn't it? </p><p>“B—Betrothed?” she whispered, her voice cracked as she uttered the word as though the word itself were a bitter poison lingering in her mouth. Her body went stiff as she clutched onto fistfuls of the blanket draped over her lap as she felt a surge in her anxiety spike to unheard-of levels. “Papa, tell me this isn’t <em>true</em>. What on earth do you <em>mean</em>, ‘betrothed?’”</p><p>Lieutenant Frederic, who looked much less enraged and shocked than the young blonde had expected him to be, stepped forward rather shyly in the hopes of rectifying the situation.</p><p>“Betrothed means intended to be <em>married</em>, milady. Affianced. Spoken for,” he said in what he hoped was a helpful tone, though the dark-haired soldier under Phoebus’s command could tell the minute the words left his mouth that he’d made a grave mistake by speaking.</p><p>She turned her head sharply in Frederic’s direction and shot the young man a look of daggers that would have killed the man where he stood had Madellaine the capability. “I <em>know</em> what it means, Ser!” she hissed, her blue eyes darkening, almost cerulean in color the angrier the blonde became now.</p><p>Esmeralda stood nervously on the sidelines within the shadows of Quasi’s bell tower, Phoebus’s arm wound tightly around her face. She looked sideways at her husband as though he should step forward and restrain Madellaine from moving or getting up, lest she exacerbates her wounds further, but Phoebus merely grinned with pride at his friend’s wrath, a part of him likely hoping the girl would start a quarrel with her father and stand up for herself.</p><p>One look over at Quasimodo as the three friends eavesdropped was more than enough for Phoebus, the golden-haired Sun God decided then.</p><p>The boy looked like he was barely managing to hold himself together. His form violently shook in both anger and fear at losing the woman he loved.</p><p>Phoebus uncomfortably squirmed and awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the next. The poor boy’s face was pale, paler than usual, causing the striking, vibrant hues of his ginger hair to stand out against his almost pallid complexion. He had not wanted Quasi to discover this unfortunate news this way. He tried to look comforting and gave the distraught bell ringer his best, ‘Everything Will be Fine’ smile, though he knew that it would not be fine.</p><p>Quasi’s blue eyes went wide, and the poor boy looked as though he had been punched in the gut. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole where he stood. The dread in his voice was obvious as he beseeched his friends for an explanation. E—engaged? Madellaine was…<em>engaged</em>?</p><p>To <em>him</em>!?! A hot surge of anger and jealousy welled within the bell ringer’s broad chest as bile rose up in his throat, though he forced himself to swallow it back down and wait. “Oh, Phoebus,” he cringed. “Oh, please no, tell me this isn’t true,” Quasi begged.</p><p>Phoebus shot Quasi what he hoped was a sympathetic smile as Esmeralda smiled sheepishly and whispered, “Lieutenant Frederic really is an honorable man. Let’s just wait and see what he says. He has the right to decline.” Esmeralda tried to appease her friend in the hopes to supplicate him. “Lucien and Phoebus think the world of Frederic. This situation concerns him too, Quasi, not just Madellaine and you,” Esmeralda whispered in her husky tone.</p><p>Quasimodo’s expression as his already pale complexion drained of what little color was left, was one of disbelief, and the man looked sick as he turned and found himself accidentally locking gazes with Lieutenant Frederic himself as the man had turned to look in the direction of the hushed conversation taking place behind his, Madellaine, and Lucien’s backs. Surely, Captain Phoebus was not serious.</p><p>Madellaine had said yes to <em>his</em> proposal, not this man. However, Quasi realized as his heart sank to the pit of his stomach that he had known few precious moments since meeting the warrior when the self-proclaimed Sun God was anything <em>but</em> joking.</p><p>Especially when it came to matters of the heart. Quasi swallowed and fell silent, unable to force the breath into his lungs. His entire body ached to rush to Madellaine and take her in his arms, to shield the young mademoiselle from being taken from him for a second time. But it was clear that he could not.</p><p>He was far too stunned to much less move, let alone think rationally. And he did not want to overwhelm Madellaine more clearly than she already was, so he would stay rooted to his spot where he was, and he would wait for her mind to comprehend just what it was that her father had arranged for her, and hope that she would have the sense to argue against it.</p><p>Quasi was certain that if she could summon the strength within herself that he knew she possessed to say no, that her joy would match his upon marrying him, and knowing that they could have a life together.</p><p>But everything hinged upon her declining her father’s betrothal to this soldier boy of Captain Phoebus’s. Slowly, Madellaine swiveled her gaze to meet Frederic’s as her heart pounded in her ears as she found Lieutenant Frederic staring sadly at her.</p><p>Her gasp split the silence, caused by her shock and the sudden rush of blood within her veins had caused the wound at her side to react. A sharp flare of white-hot pain jolted up her right side as she doubled over in pain in her chair, one hand clutching her side, and the other white-knuckling the armrest of the chair. A low guttural groan rose from her throat, and she dared not move out of fearing something was amiss. Her concern and fear registered upon her face.</p><p>Before Quasi could break himself out of his stunned stupor and dart forward on the balls of his heels in his haste to appear at Madellaine’s side, Lieutenant Frederic beat him to it and rushed to her, looking like he wanted nothing more than to help her.</p><p>“<em>Don’t</em> come near me,” Madellaine hissed through clenched teeth, her face contorted in pain as she rested back against the chair, exhaling a shaking breath as she waited for the painful spasm to subside. She looked towards her father, who watched the whole thing with worry and concern on his face. “You’re <em>alive</em>, Papa?” she questioned, her voice sounding listless and flat as she addressed Lucien. Her mind struggled to understand where he could have been this whole time since she was six years old.</p><p>There was a time she’d have given anything to have her father by her side, a man who wasn’t Sarousch. But now, all she wanted was Quasi’s strong, reassuring protection as she shot him a pleading look.</p><p>Nervously, Quasi felt his feet move of their own accord, with the assistance from Phoebus, who gave his friend a light shove forward in an effort to coax his and Esmeralda’s good friend from the safety of the shadows of his bell tower, and out into the moonlight.</p><p>He did not stop until he reached Madellaine’s side and awkwardly moved to stand behind her chair. Never in his life had he felt more out of place and unwanted than he had right now. The bell ringer wanted nothing more than to crawl away and hide.</p><p>“I am,” Lucien answered in a low mutter, his lined, weathered face painted with shame and remorse. His daughter’s emotionless and accusatory staring made the awkward moment ten times worse.</p><p>This was not at all the reunion the proud father had hoped for. Madellaine sat glaring at him, as still as a statue, with the accursed red-haired wretch Lucien knew his little girl to be infatuated with behind her, assuming somewhat of a protective stance that told the aging ranger the monster wasn’t letting anyone else with a few feet of Madellaine right now.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Madellaine stammered, barely sparing Lieutenant Frederic as much as a second glance, choosing to ignore the handsome soldier for now. She would address that problem in a moment. “Where have you <em>been</em>, Papa?” she asked, her face and her expression both grim as a graveyard.</p><p>“It is a long story, little dove,” Lucien tried to chuckle, but it escaped his lips as more of a haggard sigh. Madellaine merely stared, her lips parted slightly in shock, patiently waiting for his answer. “I was gravely injured when your mother and I fell sick. Your poor mother, God bless her soul, succumbed to the black fever, but I survived, by some grace of God Himself, and pulled through. Though by the time I recovered, you had already been stolen away from me.”</p><p>Lucien lowered his eyes at the thought of the years that were now lost to them both, hating that circus’s ringmaster who had kidnapped his daughter.</p><p>As he lifted his gaze, his blue eyes begged his girl’s forgiveness. “If I could have, I’d have returned to you,” Lucien admitted freely. “It took a long time for me to recover, but over the years, I never lost my resolve and determination to find you, Madellaine,” he assured the young blonde, who remained silent.</p><p>Madellaine merely regarded him with a confused scowl as her thin blonde eyebrows knitted together in a look of anger and hurt, Lucien noticed.</p><p>“Why?” she asked, her face not holding the happiness the aging father had hoped to find, but instead, a horrible, bewildered indifference that had dimmed the sparkle in his daughter’s pale blue orbs. “Why are you here?” she questioned, looking towards the red-haired monster standing behind her, her gaze briefly flitting back towards Frederic, whose gait stiffened as he shot the bell ringer a pointed glower.</p><p>It took Lucien Barreau a moment, but the ranger quickly realized his little girl saw absolutely no reason for him to have come to Paris to find her here.</p><p>“I thought…” Lucien stammered, growing increasingly more flustered by the moment, looking lovingly towards his little girl. “It was my hope that when I finally found you, that I could bring you home. That you would let me take you back with me, or anyplace else you would want to go,” he offered, almost beginning. “Somewhere, well, away from here.” He’d meant that he wanted to take Madellaine someplace that was more befitting of his daughter.</p><p>He’d not meant his words to sound condescending. And Lucien could tell judging by the look on the young woman’s face that she’d taken offense to his seemingly judgmental tone as she glared. She straightened her posture and reached up a bandaged hand to intertwine her fingers with Quasi’s gloved hand. He hesitated, initially reluctant to take the offer of her outstretched and waiting hand, not wanting to make their situation more difficult, but she emanated a tense aura and shot him a look that suggested he would be a bloody fool to argue her on this, so he relented and slipped his hand into hers.</p><p>Madellaine shot her father an incredulous look of disbelief. “This place <em>is</em> my home now, Papa,” she quietly corrected her father’s words. “This is where I will live with my husband,” she said, a tiny smile tugging the corners of her mouth upward as she smiled upon feeling Quasi’s grip tighten in hers upon hearing her utter the word husband. “This is where we will live out our lives and have a family, should God see fit to bless us with children of our own one day, Father,” she said, smiling hesitantly at her papa.</p><p>She looked deeply into Quasi’s burning blue eyes, having to crane her neck upward to peer into the gentle giant’s eyes, and her soul was calmed by the depths. Madellaine cautiously eyed Quasi and nodded. He tightened his grip on her hand, not letting go, and he’d never let her go again if he could help it.</p><p>Madellaine looked back towards her father, her frown deepening as she regarded her last blood relative, that now had the audacity to think that she would up and abandon Quasi, leave her future here in the cathedral with the man, and all for Phoebus’s soldier?</p><p>“Did you expect that I would leave <em>willingly</em>?” she probed, unable to believe what she was hearing. Slowly, before Lucien could summon strength enough on his throat to provide an answer, she turned back towards Lieutenant Frederic. “I am grateful to you, Lieutenant, for saving my father’s life,” Madellaine told Frederic, trying to be kind to the dark-haired soldier of Phoebus’s whom she’d liked and was on friendly terms with. But he wasn’t hers and he could never be hers, as her heart already belonged to the church’s bell ringer. And she aimed to keep it that way. “I truly wish you the best of everything, Frederic.” She hoped for him. “And I am sorry that my father has sent you all this way tonight.”</p><p>Madellaine looked towards Lieutenant Frederic and shook her head softly. “But there is nothing for you here,” she murmured as she turned her gaze back towards Quasi, her mind mulling over all that the two of them had shared flitting in her thoughts. Nothing within her could imagine leaving.</p><p>She would sooner willingly give up her own life than to be separated from Quasimodo a second time.</p><p>Not again. Gripping onto her love’s gloved fingers even tighter, Madellaine smiled, and although it was Lieutenant Frederic and her father that she was addressing, it was as if the two men were no longer there. Her words were a declaration to the bell ringer.</p><p>“I am madly…deeply…and desperately in love with Quasi,” Madellaine announced, a note of pride in her voice as she tilted her head up to look at the man she adored, with whom she hoped to build a new life. The man who she would marry soon. Perhaps even one day, the father to any children they might have. Quasi, sensing Madellaine wanted more, perched himself on top of the chair’s armrest and draped an arm around her shoulder, rubbing soothing little circles near the center of her spine tenderly.</p><p>Lucien sighed, watching almost mournfully alongside Frederic as the tender touches and gentle looks the odd pair exchanged spelled the end of his desires to wed his daughter off to Phoebus’s soldier. It was clear that she loved this wretch, Lucien knew, however unusual the man’s appearance was. Her heart truly did belong to the church’s bell ringer.</p><p>She would, given her way, be his wife, and one day, the mother of any children they might sire together. She belonged here, Lucien realized, as he looked around the bell tower balcony with interest. This was her world now. This was her home, her new family. For the first time, Lucien realized that Madellaine would not accompany him. He’d made a choice long ago, and she hers. Although his heart was shattering inside his frail chest, Lucien knew he could no longer ask his daughter to leave and give up all that she loved.</p><p>She would not go. He could certainly not take her by force if she resisted his attempts, for that would surely only succeed in driving a wedge between them both. His Lena would hate him forever if he tried. Lucien knew he would have to love his daughter enough to give her up, to give up even the hope of her.</p><p>Her memory would need to be enough, forever.</p><p>Perhaps it was his first step on the path to the honor that he had always wanted, the honor that would make him worthy of earning the title of Father in his daughter’s eyes. Fighting against the salty briny liquid of tears that Lucien Barreau knew would overwhelm him later, the father lowered his head in utter defeat.</p><p>“Then…there is no reason for you to be here tonight, Lieutenant Frederic. You may go, boy,” he barked, his entire body going numb as he spoke the words he never thought he would hear himself say.</p><p>Lucien understood that he would have to find a way to live with his daughter’s choice, as difficult as it was in the moment for him to accept. Standing out here on the balcony terrace, surrounded by his daughter’s new family, Lucien knew he would be leaving the city of Paris and returning to Saint Paul de Vence alone. But perhaps it was all that he deserved.</p><p>Madellaine’s father swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke from the depths of his heart. “I need to you know, little dove,” he faltered, his mind reeling with all that would go left unsaid between them, “that I am sorry that I couldn’t find you sooner.” He trailed off, unable to say any more. “Were that I could have.”</p><p>“I know,” Madellaine comforted her father, even as she rested against the bell ringer’s supportive and strong arms, letting out a tiny sigh of pure bliss. She clasped tightly onto Quasimodo’s hand. “We’re going to be married, Papa. It would be a great honor if you would give me away on our wedding day, Father.”</p><p>She smiled shyly as Lucien’s expression softened. He regarded his daughter in silence. “Well,” he declared, speaking to the pair of them in a low voice as he heard Frederic politely excuse himself and vacate the scene. “I have not given my blessing as your father for this union, young lady,” he said sternly, looking insulted. Madellaine looked stricken.</p><p>Quasi stiffened, remembering something Phoebus had told him once shortly after marrying Esmeralda when he’d been preparing to wed her.</p><p>Phoebus had mentioned that asking the father’s blessing if the paternal father still were alive at the time of the proposal was very important and that any man would surely give Quasi his blessing someday if he saw how protective the boy was of the young woman who had managed to capture his heart.</p><p>He silently kicked himself for not thinking of this and tried to fix his mistake as Lucien stared.</p><p>“S—Monsieur,” he stammered humbly. “I—it’s true, th—that I am deeply in love with your daughter.” He gazed at Madellaine adoringly for a moment, but then his face turned solemn and serious as he again spoke to Lucien Barreau, wanting to say his piece. “I would give up my very life for her, but I think I would rather spend it trying to be worthy of your daughter instead. How an angel-like Madellaine can see the man behind the monster we both know me to be, I don’t know. I—if you will let me, th—that is?” he asked.</p><p>As he spoke from his heart, the sincerity of his words touched the ranger as Quasimodo fell silent. Lucien Barreau drew in a forceful breath of cold night air. His lined face was serious as he held in the air in his lungs, silently considering the bell ringer’s request. After a moment, he let out the breath as he slowly exhaled and addressed the young lovers.</p><p>“It is about time my Lena found someone, as she is well past the marrying age,” her father declared boldly.</p><p>Quasi took Madellaine’s hand and pressed her bruised knuckles to his lips gently. “I—I want her to be completely healed before we marry,” he offered. “B—but it’s been on my mind,” he confessed. The pure, unadulterated love in his gaze when the boy looked into his daughter’s eyes was the only convincing the ranger needed to be sure that this man, despite his initial shocking appearance, was everything that he could possibly want for his girl.</p><p>“I will happily give you my blessing,” Lucien announced after a long pause. The identical anxiety on both the boy’s and his daughter’s faces were beginning to turn into wide, excited smiles, though their relief was quickly halted by his next words. “On two conditions.” Lucien held up his hand to stop their premature merriment from getting out of hand now.</p><p>“Yes, Papa?” Madellaine whispered as she swallowed nervously, wondering what on earth her father could possibly want from her and Quasi now. “What conditions?” she questions, her throat sore.</p><p>Lucien nodded with certainty. “First, you will be married in the eyes of our Lord our God in the cathedral,” he declared as if it were already a foregone conclusion. He looked sternly towards Quasi and cleared his throat. Quasi was still holding her hand.</p><p>He quickly dropped it and shuffled aside a few inches as Lucien stepped closer to Madellaine, understanding the importance of this moment between his love and her father. Lucien reached for Madellaine’s bandaged hands, clutching them to his chest as he knelt to better look his girl in her eyes.</p><p>Lucien drew Madellaine closer towards him.</p><p>“Your children will be my heirs. I offer them all that I have, though it may not be much at all, it’s the least I can provide,” he told her lovingly. “Your marriage will be consecrated here,” he demanded, as Madellaine’s face grew even brighter.</p><p>She looked towards Quasimodo for confirmation, who quickly nodded his agreement with a relieved, albeit happy smile.  Turning back to her father, she threw her arms around his thick neck as if she were a little girl.</p><p>“Oh, thank you, Papa,” she gushed, murmuring her words into the side of his neck as she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.</p><p>Lucien held Madellaine close for a long moment, realizing that soon, his little girl would truly belong to another man. He savored his daughter’s unconditional love that reminded him so of her mother, Amelie, and vowed that no distance would ever keep him away from his daughter or future grandchildren the two might be blessed with soon.</p><p>After a long moment spent in his daughter’s warm embrace, Lucien reluctantly relinquished his control on his daughter and let her rest against the headrest of the chair. She nestled into the bell ringer’s embrace as he knelt on his knees by her chair’s side, but her face still harbored a twinge of confusion at her father’s next demand.</p><p>“You said two conditions?” she reminded, wondering what on earth her papa wanted? She swallowed down hard as Lucien’s blue eyes that she must have inherited from him scanned from her to Quasimodo and then back to her again.</p><p>Shockingly enough, Lucien eased Madellaine’s fears with a smile and a light little chuckle, happy that his little girl had found such devotion, though admittedly, he knew it would take him some time to get used to the young man’s unusual and shocking appearance, at least upon first glance, though he hoped the more time he spent around the boy, he’d get used to it.</p><p>“Enjoy your time together,” he bid them, as his face saddened as he thought of Amelie. “Life on this world is so fleeting and it slips by you in the blink of an eye if you’re not careful,” he muttered.</p><p>Madellaine drew in a shallow breath as she fought against shedding a tear for her father’s heartbreak. She could only remember snippets of her mother. Her face, her voice, what she looked like. The young woman understood her Papa was lost in the memories of his life with her mother. The woman who’d given her life and succumbed to an illness, whom she could not remember, had been her father’s great love. She could tell her mother was missed, even after all this time.</p><p>Madellaine reached out and embraced her father once more. “I love you, Papa,” she whispered. “Thank you for this, Father.”</p><p>Lucien’s heart burst with pride as he beheld his daughter, wishing that Amelie could be here to see it.</p><p>She was so much more than he had remembered. Madellaine was a strong woman, independent, a free spirit, and had managed to carve her own path in this world, and had found her own love, as unusual and shocking as the man’s visage was. He let her be with the man she loved and allowed the pair of them a moment alone on the balcony to revel in the fact that they were to be married the moment Madellaine’s wounds had fully healed up.</p><p>Lucien steered himself in the direction of the bell tower loft and clapped a hand over Phoebus’s shoulder and steered the golden-haired Sun God towards the stone staircase along with Esmeralda, announcing loudly at the top of his lungs for the whole congregation to hear that they had a wedding to plan, leaving the pair of young lovers alone to celebrate their betrothal, their hands wrapped around one another as they silently pledged their love and their lives to one another, whispering words of love and affirmation in the shell of each other’s ears, with Madellaine not protesting as Quasi gingerly helped her to stand, before taking her face in his and sealing off the gap of space that existed between them with a kiss that was long, slow, and peaceful. It felt…<em>right</em>.</p><p>Her arms wound tightly around Quasi, and he accepted Madellaine’s hug though he felt he did not deserve it still, despite the euphoria flooding his veins that he would be soon marrying the woman he loved.</p><p>“I—I’m <em>sorry</em>,” he choked out, trembling as he took in the wide-eyed young mademoiselle. “I—I thought, I—I didn’t think,” he tried to stammer out.</p><p>“You never do, Quasi,” Madellaine accused, but it was lacking the bite her tone should have had, as she was growing increasingly annoyed with the bell ringer for ruining what was meant to be a joyous moment as she studied the golden rings in her hand. “H—how could you think I’d be better off without you?” she whispered comfortingly into the shell of his ear, quiet sobs interrupting what she wanted to say. “I—I was so worried, Quasi. I was scared I’d lost you.”</p><p>“I’m still scared,” he told her. It seemed important to Quasi that Madellaine understood this. “E—even though you’ve made me the happiest man alive by saying yes, that your father’s given his blessing, I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been in my entire life, Madellaine,” he said, telling the truth.</p><p>“Of what?” she asked. Quasi flinched as he could feel her tears on his shoulder and neck. “Of what?” she repeated again when he did not answer.</p><p>Quasi closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her hair. “Of having you become hated by society, just as I have. Of any children that we might one day have being resentful of what their father is,” he paused. “Of not being good enough. What child wants a <em>monster</em> for a p—”</p><p>“<em>Shut up</em>,” Madellaine growled immediately, not even letting the man finish his self-deprecating thought. “You’ve always been good enough, Quasi. <em>Always</em>. You’re more than enough for me, darling.”</p><p>They embraced out on the balcony for a few minutes longer, and then Quasimodo reluctantly pulled away until his hands rested on her hips.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” he whispered in a choking sob again. He wondered if he would ever say it enough to Lena.</p><p>Madellaine nodded quietly. “It’s not okay yet,” she told him softly—and that was more than fine. That was as it should be, and Quasi knew this. She cupped his jaw firmly in one hand, which was still prickly from his days without shaving. “You broke my heart when we argued,” she managed to gasp out in a choked voice. “Don’t you <em>dare</em> do that to me again, Quasi, no matter what the reason is,” she snapped.</p><p>But then her blue eyes softened, losing their cool glower as she let her lips brush against his again. “But just because it’s not okay <em>now</em> doesn’t mean it never will be,” Madellaine murmured lovingly at him. "I forgive you," she whispered, a slight teasing lilt to her voice as she let her lips brush against his for a second kiss, this one gentle but sweet. "You can make it up to me by marrying me," she teased lovingly, pulling black slightly to study his face, her blue eyes twinkling as her lips curved up in a soft, affectionate smile.</p><p>Quasi made an odd, strangled noise at the back of his throat as he pulled the young blonde in for another hug, his strong arms winding tightly around her in a protective circle, not willing to let her go. He was reminded of the words that Laverne had spoken to him earlier, how when he would marry her, and hopefully sooner rather than later, providing she healed, that he would make a commitment, a promise to her to always stand by her as her husband, no matter what. It reminded him of what was important.</p><p>“No more running,” Quasi promised lovingly, so softly and gently that he wasn’t even sure Madellaine had heard him as they stayed out on the balcony a while longer to look up at the dozens of stars in the sky as the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. “I promise, Madellaine. No more running. I’ll always be here for you. <em>Always</em>,” he promised.</p><p>Madellaine pulled back and smiled as she looked at them. Neither one of them uttered a word.</p><p>They did not need to, for their blue eyes were already communicating an entire story in just a look. Neither Quasi nor Madellaine broke the silence, content to just bask in the presence of one another as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, wishing he could bottle her warmth.</p><p>He did not say a word, for it was far too precious a moment to ruin.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter is (finally) the long-awaited wedding! :D :D :D</p>
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<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Chapter 36</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Their long-awaited wedding after months pass, and Madellaine's wedding gift to Quasi. Also, for all my readers/writers who write medieval fanfics/fantasy as I do, if you ever need clothing inspiration: check out Armstreet for some really beautiful pieces that you can use as inspiration. For example, I modeled Madellaine's wedding dress after a dress that came from the website, which you can see in all its splendor and simplistic beauty here: </p><p>https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-white-cotton-dress-chess-queen  </p><p>If only I had more $$ I'd totally buy it for myself LOL. But I digress. Anyways, on with the show, and only a few more chapters left, but stay tuned for the sequel, coming soon!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>36</strong>
</p><p><strong>WITHIN</strong> three months following Madellaine’s wounds healing, as early October came to Paris with gentle grace and its subtle beauty, almost the entire city knew of the cathedral’s bell ringer getting married, thanks to Sister Alice and her habit of gossiping after indulging in a little too much wine one night after supper.</p><p>While Madellaine felt extraordinarily blessed to have been given her father’s blessing, something else soon began to weigh on her mind. As she was preparing to wed the church’s bell ringer, Madellaine began to suffer from strange, inexplicable bouts of nausea, almost every day.</p><p>The sensations started off small enough but were quickly becoming an everyday occurrence. The young woman told herself that she was simply under stress, nerves from becoming a bride that she never thought she’d be.</p><p>But when her sickness did not subside, she was certain it was leftover ailments, a weakness, from Sarousch stabbing her. Sarousch had been sentenced to death two months ago, not even a fortnight after her waking up from her wounds, though Quasi had adamantly refused to let Madellaine attend the execution, not wanting his bride to see something of that nature. But Quasi had attended alongside Phoebus.</p><p>More so for visual confirmation that her master was well and truly dead than anything else, that the man would never be bothering his love ever again. He’d returned from the execution white-faced and shellshocked and adamantly refused to speak of the gruesome sentence he had witnessed, though Madellaine thought she’d heard it. She could swear she heard the man’s ringing screams in her eardrums as the man was led to the execution block.</p><p>The old Russian Slavic bitch of a witch who had almost succeeded in killing Madellaine all those weeks ago with her magic, Baba Yaga, had disappeared without a trace, by means of whatever witchcraft she used, though Madellaine had a sinking feeling she would one day return in some way, shape, or form, and that she would be ready for her when she did.</p><p>Quasi had given her comfort in the only way that Madellaine had asked for that night, despite his initial reluctance and hesitancy to wait until they were married in the eyes of the Lord. But Madellaine hadn’t regretted a single moment of the night they spent together in love’s sweet embrace. Tasting his kiss, feeling his movements as they moved as one and in sync beneath the blankets.</p><p>She did not tell Quasi about her nauseous feelings, not wishing to worry her love. She felt she’d known enough anguish over the past months due to her narrow brush with death, and then still felt a sense of guilt over their argument, despite Madellaine having forgiven Quasimodo.</p><p>She refused to add to her fiancé’s stress. Madellaine was confident everything would settle down once she eased into married life, she was sure of it. So, the ex-circus performer tried to put her health concerns towards the recesses of her mind and centered herself in the festivities surrounding her wedding.</p><p>Her father saw to the planning and details himself. Nothing escaped the ranger’s sharp scrutiny, and absolutely nothing was left to chance here. He’d adamantly demanded the two have a private but traditional ceremony, feeling it was the intimacy yet the splendor that his only daughter deserved. She would only marry once, and Lucien wanted to make her day count. Quasi could not help but agree with the man, with whom he was still getting used to, but treated with respect.</p><p>Although the celebration was intimate, with only Phoebus and Esmeralda, and Sister Alice in attendance as witnesses, the day was still a whirlwind of bustling activity.</p><p>Early that morning, Quasi was almost violently pulled away from their now-shared sleeping nook that he openly shared with Madellaine by Captain Phoebus so that she could prepare. He did not see his bride for the rest of the day, much to his chagrin and immense disappointment. The wait seemed interminable as he reluctantly allowed the golden-haired Sun God to lead him away from the comfort of his bell towers, and from his wife-to-be so that the men themselves could prepare for the ceremony.</p><p>It was nightfall by the time the ceremony commenced. Quasi had not even caught a single glimpse of Madellaine throughout the duration of the entire day, and he almost physically ached for his bride, it was a need.</p><p>Finally, she emerged at the beginning of the long aisle in the nave of the main level of the sanctuary on her father’s arm and walked down the aisle towards the man.</p><p>It seemed to the awe-stricken bell ringer that she glided. Madellaine wore a beautiful but simplistic white cotton dress with long sleeves that came into blossom at the upper arms and narrowed all the way down to her delicate wrists, ending with elongated cuffs. Side lacings gently hugged her slender middle. The dress had a full floor-length sweep and seemed to glide with her movements as her father escorted Madellaine down the walkway. The dress’s boat neckline and sleeves were embroidered with delicate navy blue Celtic trim, and Esmeralda had woven tiny white flowers into her short blonde hair that Sister Alice had painstakingly trimmed so that not a wisp or a stray strand was out of place right now.</p><p>Her gown set off her slender shoulders framing her graceful, swan-like neck and brought out her lovely blue eyes. Quasi stood to receive his bride in a black tunic trimmed with gold that brought out his fiery red hair, his black leather hosen, and black boots shone in the dim light emitted by the candelabras lighted behind the Archdeacon.</p><p>Quasi nervously waited in anticipation to receive his bride, biting the wall of his mouth, hardly daring to believe the day had come.</p><p>That he had met a woman who loved him.</p><p>When she lifted her chin from the ground, careful not to trip over the long hem of her dress in her white slippers, Madellaine nervously met Quasi’s affectionate gaze, her eyes beginning to glisten with the onset of delighted tears.</p><p>He was the strongest, and in her mind, most handsome man she had ever seen, standing tall and proud in his elegant black attire. Madellaine, when she had been a part of Sarousch’s circus, had never allowed herself to dream of one day meeting a man and starting a family.</p><p>She had told herself it was not allowed, and it was never something that she desired, as she felt a thief and a wretch like her did not deserve such happiness and bliss.</p><p>But now, as she walked towards the man who would within a few moments, become her husband, that life with Quasimodo in his bell towers here in the church was all that she wanted. As Madellaine and Lucien reached the end of the aisle, Lucien lovingly kissed his daughter’s cheek, and placed her hand in Quasi’s outstretched hand, waiting for her grasp.</p><p>As his daughter gave the man a loving white smile, Madellaine was observant to notice Lucien’s eyes were also wet with tears.</p><p>The two of them had been through so much, but now none of that mattered anymore. Turning towards the Archdeacon, the bride and groom joined hands, both of them realizing that their hands were shaking violently. The Archdeacon spoke over the pair of them as Lucien moved to stand alongside Sister Alice, Phoebus, Esmeralda, and a young-blond-haired baby held in Esmeralda’s arms, no older than few weeks old who had mysteriously been left on the couples’ doorsteps.  The kind-hearted woman that Esmeralda was, she had insisted the two take the child in and raise the boy as their own son and had named him Zephyr. Phoebus had been reluctant at first but relented, and now loved the boy as his own.</p><p>Together, Quasi and Madellaine voiced the vows that would bind them as married in the eyes of the Lord forever, their gazes locked in an adoring gaze, neither one willing to break apart for fear of ruining the intimacy of the moment.</p><p>“I am yours and you are mine. From this day henceforth, until the end of my days when I draw my last breath,” they solemnly pledged, each of them overcome with emotion. “With this kiss, I pledge to you my undying love and fealty and take you as my husband/wife,” they declared, and when the Archdeacon announced they may kiss the moment their rings were slid onto their fingers, their lips met in a sweet but passionate promise of love.</p><p>As they reluctantly parted from the embrace, the Archdeacon happily announced their marriage.</p><p>“The two souls that stand before the eyes of God today are now one flesh, one heart, and one soul, now and for all eternity.”</p><p>Following the commencement of the ceremony, Lucien hosted a light dinner celebration for the caretakers of the cathedral in honor of his daughter and her new husband. The food was plentiful and delicious, the conversation exuberant and joyous, but Quasi and Madellaine barely noticed any of it. The two newlyweds were lost in one another and the life they’d just started together as husband and wife.</p><p>At first, shocked that his daughter had fallen in love with a man as unusual looking as Notre Dame’s bell ringer, Lucien quickly came to understand over the following weeks and months of watching the pair together when his daughter and the boy thought the ranger wasn’t looking, just how much they were close with one another, and how deeply the two were in love. Madellaine and Quasimodo thanked Lucien and Phoebus and Esmeralda for all that they had done but retired early before the meal had ended to enjoy their first night alone as husband and wife for the first time.</p><p>In losing herself with him that night, she lost all concept of time, that she began to grow truly alarmed.</p><p>Madellaine noticed the morning after their wedding night as she nursed a mug of hot cider out on the balcony that her woman’s time had not come. She desperately searched her mind and drew in a quick, startled gasp upon realizing she’d not had cramps for a few weeks.</p><p>And she was noticing other changes in herself as well.</p><p>Her body felt softer, almost unfamiliar. Her pale skin seemed to hold a radiant glow to it, almost a sun-kissed glowing look. She was nauseous in the mornings, only able to keep down a small amount of food, only to gag it out altogether at an indefinite time of day, sometimes multiple times, to the point where she was wondering if she had a sickness, the flu of some sort. She wasn’t used to feeling so tired all the time either, she felt as if she could sleep for a hundred years and it still would not be near enough rest.</p><p>Madellaine’s heart began to pound erratically inside her chest at the idea her brain was trying desperately not to let herself think it. She knew that one day, she wanted children. Of course, she wanted it, how could she not? It seemed so far off a dream for the likes of her.</p><p>Just as Madellaine had given up the thought of ever becoming a wife the longer she remained under Sarousch’s thumb, before she’d met and fallen in love with Quasi, she’d never found herself really wishing for motherhood, exactly. She simply assumed that Sarousch would never allow it to happen. Now that it was a true possibility, however, Madellaine was terrified. How could a woman who stole and behaved improperly in the eyes of the Lord ever be a decent mother to an innocent baby?</p><p>As she continued to sip at her cup of warm cider as she stood out on the balcony, Madellaine did not realize she’d grown quiet, and her expression had turned as grim as a graveyard and stoic. She kept her gaze transfixed on the city streets below, paying especially close attention to the mothers she saw bustling about the cobblestoned streets of the marketplace and across the bridge with their young children. Quasi joined his new wife out on the balcony, noticing Madellaine’s solemn manner, growing worried.</p><p>He realized his new wife was tiring more easily. Quasi was confident Madellaine was not feeling at all well, but his wife was keeping it from him if she happened to be.</p><p>At first, Quasi feared that she was suffering from some lingering aftermath from her stab wounds, an impulse that he quickly discounted as Esmeralda had stated months ago upon her last examination of the scars that she was fully healed, though Madellaine’s wounds would twitch and pang now again under extreme physical stress or whenever the weather would change, but that’s it.</p><p>His wife had been returned to health for months now and had shown no lingering effects from her surgery.</p><p>Quasimodo knew their wedding had caused Madellaine some small amount of stress to the point of sickness in the mornings, but now that the day was behind them, it should have been a happy time for his beloved wife. He searched his mind for some other explanation.</p><p>“Love?” he murmured in a soft voice as he nudged behind his wife and stooped to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. Worry wormed its way into the pit of his stomach. “What’s wrong? What’s bothering you? A—are you <em>sick</em>?” he asked, not liking how Madellaine had gone quite pale.</p><p>Madellaine slowly swiveled her gaze to look at Quasi, an unidentifiable expression gleaming in her twinkling blue eyes.</p><p>“N—nothing’s wrong,” Madellaine stammered, a fiery heat creeping to her cheeks as she reached for his hands, bringing his knuckles to her lips for a gentle kiss. “I have a gift for you,” she murmured, her voice low but almost giddy with anticipation, and yet fearful as well, as though nervous as to how her husband would react to her.</p><p>“A gift?” Quasi repeated, regret snaking its way into his eyes as he wound his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “But I have nothing to give you, my love,” he said with shame and embarrassment marring his tenor-like tones as he hung his head, a lock of fiery ginger hair falling in front of his face. He hated himself for not thinking to find his wife some small token, a memento, with which they could mark their joyous occasion. “Forgive me.”</p><p>Madellaine, however, was not having any of Quasimodo’s apologies as she brought her hands up to caress his face, lifting her husband’s eyes to meet hers.</p><p>“You have given me everything I ever wanted, Quasi,” she told him with no small amount of adoration in her voice. “There’s nothing more that I could ever want.”</p><p>Her shy white smile warmed his soul and heart, his wife’s selflessness inspiring Quasi to be the man he knew he could be for her. She was the most wonderful wife a man could ask for, and the fact that she’d chosen a bastard wretch like him, he would never begin to understand her.</p><p>Madellaine gazed lovingly into his eyes, her own blue eyes twinkling. “It’s but a small thing. Tiny, really,” she grinned, smiling at the truth of her words. She ached to tell her husband her suspected secret now that her mind had worked on overdrive to put together all the pieces.</p><p>She took him by the hand and led him inside out of the chilly morning October air and towards their bed. “Sit down,” she told him, making sure Quasi would be adequately comfortable for the shocking blow she was about to deliver and hoped her husband received it well.</p><p>Quasi obediently did as his wife told him to and perched himself on the edge of the mattress of their marriage bed that he had painstakingly carved over the weeks of their courtship leading up to their wedding, beginning the day after Madellaine had said yes to his proposal. Now that he had a family to support, his wife could not be allowed to sleep on the ground in a meager pile of blankets. With Phoebus and a few of the lay brothers’ and monks’ help, he’d finished the wooden bedposts and frames within a mere matter of weeks.</p><p>His face was a mask of confusion, hurt, and concern for whatever his wife was about to tell him. Madellaine moved to stand in front of him, wanting her husband’s nearness, filing the space between Quasimodo’s knees.</p><p>Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Madellaine let out the breath slowly, trying to will her nerves to quell as she reached for her husband’s gloved hand and took her hand in his own. She tightly squeezed his fingers for a moment, staring deep into those rich pools of blue that were her husband’s pale blue orbs, a look of wonder and fear on his face while he waited for her to present her gift.</p><p>Then, slowly, as if to savor the moment, she brought Quasi’s palm and rested atop her still very flat abdomen.</p><p>“I’m pregnant. We’re—we’re going to have a baby, sweetheart,” Madellaine’s voice cracked and broke with emotion as she delivered her news. Tears pricked at the edges of her lids as she imagined the tiny life growing inside of her, the life that their passionate love had created.</p><p>Madellaine bit down on her bottom lip as she searched Quasi’s slightly misshapen face for his reaction, hoping that he would be as happy about the discovery as she was. Quasi sat speechlessly and as still as a statue, utterly motionless as the meaning of his wife’s news dawned on him just then. His fingers twitched a bit as they moved delicately over her flat belly.</p><p>“Wh—<em>what</em>?” he stammered, blinking owlishly in shock as he looked at his wife, unsure if he had heard the young blonde correctly at first.</p><p>Madellaine merely smiled and nodded.</p><p>“A—a <em>baby</em>?” he repeated, beaming, as the edges of his lips curled up into a soft smile. Madellaine nodded yet again, unable to hold back her excited smile at her news.</p><p>Quasi slid immediately off the bed and onto his knees in front of his wife, almost as if he were worshipping both his wife and their unborn babe growing within her.</p><p>She drew in a sharp breath as he gently planted a kiss against the plane of her stomach before pressing his ear to the softness of her skin, holding his head close to her, reveling in his response to his wife’s news, hoping that he could hear their baby’s heartbeat or any signs of its life.</p><p>Madellaine lovingly laced her fingers through his thick tuft of red hair and held his head close to her, basking in the intimacy of the moment.</p><p>They were going to become parents to a beautiful baby boy or a girl in another…eight months.</p><p>She had to do the math in her head as she thought of when her last cycle was. A happy sob was ripped from her chest, throat, and lips before she could stop herself.</p><p>The noise brought Notre Dame’s bell ringer back to reality with a start. Slowly, he rose to his feet and stood tall, towering over his wife, his hand still protectively resting against her stomach as he made no move to remove it. Suddenly, he remembered her bouts of nausea in the mornings and in the days leading up to their wedding, coupled with remembering the night that he had asked her to marry him and the passionate love they’d shared that eve as she had almost begged him to make love to her, despite his trepidations at wanting to wait till she healed, Madellaine had been insistent. He’d been careful not to hurt her.</p><p>“Is that why you’ve been ill the last few days, darling?” he questioned, looking at his wife with raise eyebrows in wonder as Madellaine softly nodded her head. Quasi lost himself, studying every perfect angle, every crevice of his beloved celestial wife, already imagining her body growing round with his child. Madellaine grew quiet, unsure for a moment.</p><p>“You are…<em>happy</em>, Quasimodo, aren’t you?” she pleaded, as she looked at him hopefully with those huge almond-shaped blue eyes he had come to love over the time of knowing her.</p><p>The bell ringer’s cobalt blue irises twinkled as he looked earnestly into his wife’s eyes. “Oh, my love,” he swore. “I could not be happier. No man has ever been as content as I am right now, I’m sure of it.” He brought his forehead to hers with a joyful sigh, his hands resting on her waist. “We’re…we’re having a <em>baby</em>,” he laughed breathlessly. “I hope that it looks like you, my darling.”</p><p>He could already feel the excitement building within him as he repressed the urge to shout for joy at the top of his lungs with every ounce of strength he could muster up. Without any hesitation, Quasi gathered Madellaine up into his strong arms and spun his wife around, dipping her towards the floor briefly before bringing her back up for a kiss as he ran his fingers through her short tresses.</p><p>But almost as soon as he’d swept his wife off her feet, he quickly realized what he’d done and became stricken with horror. He carefully set his wife back upon the wooden floorboards of their sleeping nook, terrified at the thought of having accidentally inflicted any harm upon Madellaine or the baby.</p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart, my love, I’m sorry,” he repeated urgently, his cheeks flushed. “D—did I <em>hurt</em> you? Please forgive me,” he stammered, painfully twisting his hands together as he took a step back.</p><p>Madellaine chuckled at Quasimodo’s concern, caressing his jaw, eager to try to set the man’s mind at ease.</p><p>“No, my love, you did not hurt me. You could <em>never</em>,” she reassured him. “I am…” She paused, cutting herself off as she ran her hand lovingly over her stomach. “We’re fine.” She relieved his worry by smiling at Quasi.</p><p>He gathered her in his arms as he nodded, Madellaine craning her head up to look him in the eyes.</p><p>“I love you, Quasi,” she declared quietly to him.</p><p>Quasi slowly closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of his love’s sweet and shy voice. When he opened them again, he smiled so tenderly and with such contentment at her that it stole the very breath from Madellaine’s lungs.</p><p>“And I love you, Madellaine,” he swore and pressed his lips to hers for a deep, passionate kiss. He held his wife close and felt her rhythmic breathing against his broad chest. He swore he could almost sense the life of their baby within her belly as he covered it protectively with his hand.</p><p>Without the need for words, Quasi devoured Madellaine with his eyes, anticipating the future to come.</p><p>Madellaine felt as if her body were set aflame by her husband’s passionate glare as she tilted her head to the left and welcomed the man’s adoring kiss, which delighted her senses and she pressed herself as close as she could to him, winding her arms around his neck and threading her fingers through Quasi’s messy ginger hair.</p><p>She glided her tongue across his bottom lip, begging for entrance, letting out a contented moan when he gladly gave it to her. His hands traveled down her spine, his fingertips of flames leaving sparks in their wake, but he dared not go any further. That was something that he would no do, at least, not until Madellaine was well enough and not so fatigued.</p><p>They broke away for breath, clinging to one another, both panting as they looked at one another, not needing to say a word. Never in the entire histories or in the city of Paris, in all of France, for that matter, had there been a happier couple, or two people who loved each other so completely as they did, Quasi thought, as he gingerly lowered his wife to the mattress, sensing how tired Madellaine had become.</p><p>Quasi joined his wife on the bed, resting his head against his wife’s, breathing in her scent of honeysuckle and lavender, relishing in the peace that wallowed in his soul at her intoxicating scent, cherishing his wife’s beauty. He protectively tightened his grip around her, unwilling to leave even a hair’s breadth of space between them.</p><p>Quickly, before he even realized it had happened, the sound of his wife’s soft, even breathing as she fell asleep quickly lulled him to sleep too, and together, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, dreaming of their lives as parents in another seven or eight months.</p><p>Such bliss.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Chapter 37</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can't believe I only have 1 more chapter left! *Cue ugly sobbing* But then the sequel is coming TOMORROW, along with the final chapter of this fic, so stay tuned for more, my lovely readers and fellow HoND fans!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>37</strong>
</p><p><strong>JUNE</strong> came to Paris almost in a whirlwind. It was on a dull grey Friday morning that carried with it the heady scent of rainfall and promised a storm, that Madellaine’s pains began to grow, as well as her anxiety. A few hours earlier, before Quasi would even rouse himself from the throes of sleep to ring for Lauds, his wife was awakened by a sharp pain that squeezed her middle and doubled her over from the sheer force of the unexpected contraction.</p><p>She knew instantly from hearing Esmeralda speak to her over the last several months, her friend having helped deliver many babies and aid as an acting midwife to other women in Clopin’s Court, she knew that her time had come. Gasping for breath and clutching at her middle, her blue eyes widened as she searched the short distance to Quasi through the darkness of their sleeping nook.</p><p>He rested in their bed, pleasantly unaware, still peacefully sleeping on the pillow beside her. As the tightness in her stomach subsided, Madellaine was quick to understand that, to her immense relief, she’d not managed to wake up her husband. But Madellaine also knew her spasms would worsen.</p><p>She remembered Esmeralda telling her that it could be hours again before her laboring would reach any kind of urgency. Hoping to let Quasi sleep as long as she could, Madellaine gingerly rested back in the bed, cradling her stomach, waiting.</p><p>As the early morning hours passed, Madellaine steadily found her pains growing, coupled with her fear and her anxiety. She was incredibly nervous at the ordeal that lay before her. What if there was a slim chance their baby was born with its father’s likeness? Oh, Madellaine knew she and Quasimodo would love it no less than if it were, that it would have a father who understood living with such a condition, but it still did not stop the blonde bell ringer’s wife from occasionally fretting over it.</p><p>Although she had paid frequent visits to Esmeralda’s home over the last nine months of her pregnancy, or when it got to the point where she’d gotten large enough that Esmeralda chose instead to come to the tower to save Quasi’s wife the trouble of walking up and down the stairwell of the tower loft and all the way across the city’s town square, to where she and Phoebus lived near the edge of the city’s gates, that she was in perfect health.</p><p>But this fact did not stop her from thinking of the dozens of stories of other women she’d heard of who didn’t survive the ordeal of childbirth as their bodies fought and struggled to bring their babies into the world. For a moment, Madellaine allowed the terror of facing the birth ahead of her to overcome her usually calm and cheerful demeanor. A tear trickled from her left lid as she desperately tried to calm her racing heart and shaking breath.</p><p>After struggling through another contraction, Madellaine found that she could no longer lay still in this bed with Quasi still sleeping peacefully alongside his wife, a little smile on his face. She smiled at the sight for a moment before contorting her face into a pained grimace. The young blonde knew she needed to stretch and move, to writhe in agony when her contractions hit their peak.</p><p>Quietly as a mouse, Madellaine drew back the duvet and blankets of their bed, lifting her heavy form from the bed.</p><p>Strategically placing her hands against her hips, she slowly stretched the aching tensions from her muscles. Exhaling a shaking breath, she slowly began to pace the floor of their room barefoot, praying she didn’t step on a creaky wooden floorboard and prematurely wake her husband up and cause him to worry.</p><p>Madellaine prepared herself for the onslaught of another pain as her body struggled and tried to move the baby downward inside of her. Madellaine gritted her teeth and strode out into the tower loft, towards Quasi’s carving table, picking up her favorite figurine, a figurine of him, and fingered it lovingly before setting it back in its proper place alongside her, where their likenesses rested at the top of the world in his wooden model of the church.</p><p>Fighting against the urge to scream and yell at the pain, Madellaine bit down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, hoping that twisting her waist until her spine started to protest would ease the agony she felt, but it didn’t.</p><p>Once the tightening in her stomach subsided, she collapsed back against the chair, heaving to catch her breath. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for much longer. Everything within her wanted to wake Quasi, to tell him to fetch Esmeralda when the time came, but she managed to resist it.</p><p>Though as she was in the midst of gripping onto the corner of the carving table in an effort to get up, another pain ravaged her insides, causing her knuckles to go white from the effort to steady herself and prevent herself from falling, as she felt weak.</p><p>Unable to take it anymore, Madellaine allowed an uncontrollable moan to escape from the back of her throat just then. The sound of his wife suffering immediately roused Quasimodo from his sleep and set every fiber of his being on edge.</p><p>He rose from his pillow, unsure of what was happening, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of his sleeping nook. Already, their bed felt much lighter, and the bell ringer realized with a pit forming in his stomach that his wife was not at all by his side.</p><p>Quasi bolted from his bed, his white linen nightshirt tousled, his red hair sticking up in tufts that he desperately tried to smooth down as he crossed the threshold that separated their comfortable sleeping nook, now more of a bedroom these days, ever since he had married Madellaine, and she had started decorating the room a little bit here and there with nick-nacks from the marketplace to make it seem not so dreary and dull.</p><p>He found his wife bracing herself against his carving table, bent over in agony, her pretty features twisted and contorted in pain, gasping for breath that her lungs seemed to be denying her.</p><p>Feeling a surge of panic lace through his veins and prick at his heartstrings, Quasi bolted across the mezzanine and was at his wife’s side in mere moments, one strong hand wound around her waist as he gingerly guided her away from the table, and the other holding onto her hand as she squeezed with surprising strength.</p><p>“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he begged, trying his hardest not to sound angry with Madellaine. “The—the baby, is it coming?” he asked in fear, wrapping his young wife in his arms.</p><p>Madellaine blearily lifted her gaze to meet his fearful blue eyes and valiantly tried to smile as she allowed her body to melt into his warm embrace, feeling the tension in her body leave her. With a shaking hand, she grasped at Quasimodo’s wrist, the other rising to caress his face in a loving manner.</p><p>“There—there wasn’t a good enough reason for both of us to lose sleep,” she weakly joked, trying to explain why she’d not woken him up as best as she could, her face somehow amazingly remaining sweet with love as she gazed up at him, though the look was beginning to crumble as tears pricked at the edges of both of her eyelids. “I—I think it’s definitely going to be today, but Esmeralda said I would still have a long way to go,” she sighed, leaning her head against the crook of Quasi’s shoulder as fatigue overtook her.</p><p>“A—are you sure?” he stammered uncertainly, nervous.</p><p>“Positive,” Madellaine groaned, gratefully accepting the support of her husband’s broad, muscular body as he did not protest as she leant against him. Quasi was too nervous to answer her so he merely nodded to show that he had heard his wife’s words and had acknowledged them. “It will be some time yet.”</p><p>“Wh—what can I <em>do</em>?” he practically begged, eager to ease Madellaine’s pains through his own anxiety. “Tell me, Maddie.”</p><p>She lifted her head and smiled reassuringly, albeit weakly at him. “Just this,” she whispered lovingly as she reached up to tuck a stray strand of her short blonde hair back behind her ear. “Just hold me,” she pleaded, her blue eyes brimming with tears.</p><p>Quasi nodded, pulling her close, silently vowing to God Himself that if Madellaine needed him to, he’d never let her go.</p><p>And so, the rest of the night was spent with Madellaine trudging her way through her pains as they continued to grow closer, stronger, and much more intense. Quasi did his best to comfort his wife, all the while feeling woefully inadequate to truly help Madellaine. He walked beside her and gripped her hand tightly while she paced a restless line back and forth in the tower, sat with her whenever she wanted, rubbed the knots from her muscles and comforting circles into the small of her spine, hoping to soothe the war waging within his wife to bring their baby into the world.</p><p>He was thankful that she was not pushing him away, and he sincerely hoped that when the time came to fetch Esmeralda, that his friend would let him witness the birth of their baby and not send him away from the room as other midwives would likely try to do. It was one of the reasons Madellaine had insisted that Esmeralda and Alice be the ones to help her through.</p><p>Almost as if she could read his mind, Madellaine halted in her increasingly frantic pacing and regarded her husband tenderly.</p><p>“I—I’m glad you’re here with me,” she confessed, as he held her even closer, feeling her body shudder against his. “Don’t let Esmeralda make you stay from my side when it’s time,” she begged. “I—I want you here with me when the baby comes.” Her voice broke and cracked with emotion as she blinked back tears. “I don’t think that I can do this without you. I’m not strong enough.”</p><p>Tears slid down her ashen cheeks at the thought of Esmeralda or anyone else trying to keep Quasi away from her during the birth of their child. He had every right to be there by Madellaine’s side to witness their son or daughter brought into this world. Quasi lovingly stooped to kiss her temple, and shook his head, brushing away a lock of his fiery red bangs out of his eyes, stifling a tiny growl of annoyance as he did so.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” his tenor-like tone soothed as he reassured his love. “I’m not planning on going anywhere. Fire-breathing dragons themselves wouldn’t keep me from your side when you need me the most.” They both dissolved into a giggling fit at his meaning.</p><p>At dawn, their vigil was interrupted by the sound of Sister Alice grumbling an audible curse under her breath to herself as she poked her head over the topmost rung of the ladder that led up to the second floor mezzanine of their tower loft, carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray in her hands, eyeing the two curiously.</p><p>“Shall I fetch Esmeralda?” the nun offered kindly, eager to provide the bell ringer’s wife with whatever the girl needed.</p><p>Madellaine shook her head no, much to Alice and Quasi’s surprise.</p><p>“Not yet. I—I don’t want her barking orders at me just yet, it's not time yet,” she joked weakly. “But perhaps you could help me?” Madellaine asked, gesturing towards their tower loft with a wave of her arm, trying to indicate a few of the chores she wanted to get done. The food that Alice set upon the table looked appetizing, but Quasi could only pick at his, too worried to eat, and Madellaine felt sick to her stomach, but Esmeralda warned her this would happen.</p><p>“Of course,” Alice nodded, and immediately set to work. Alice, with the help of the bell ringer, tidied the bell tower’s loft as best as they could, and then helped Madellaine set out the blankets and clean linens she thought she might need for her delivery. Quasi had painstakingly and lovingly crafted a small wooden cradle that was just tall enough to rest at their bedside.</p><p>Madellaine remembered how her heart had melted when Quasi had presented his gift to her. Now, together, they prepared the soft feather tick that would line the bottom of the cradle, upon which they would place their baby when he or she was born. Inside the cradle, they carefully laid a tiny new quilt that Esmeralda had sewn, along with a few makeshift toys. Madellaine’s pains were gripping her harder as the hours passed.</p><p>Whenever one would seize her body, Madellaine would try bravely to breathe through the spasms and steel herself against the worst of them, but she was unable to keep the pain-filled moans from her escaping throat. Quasi did his best to be his wife’s rock in her hour of need, but he himself felt even more terrified.</p><p>Many women succumbed to the trials of childbirth, and Notre Dame’s bell ringer adamantly refused to entertain the notion of his beloved wife losing her battle to enter his mind. He held Madellaine as softly or as strongly as she needed him to, as she clung to him in the midst of her throes of agony.</p><p>He whispered sweet nothings in her ear in the hopes it would strengthen her resolve and gave her his hands to grip onto when she could hold on no longer. Madellaine knew Quasi was afraid, just as she was, but she quickly realized he was not allowing her to see his fear. It gave her the courage to continue to face her worsening labor. Just as the pair finished preparing their baby’s cradle, a strong contraction seized her entire stomach.</p><p>Her starving lungs gasped for breath as he quickly guided her to the edge of the bed and forced his beloved wife to sit down, not protesting as she moaned low and deep into his left shoulder.</p><p>She nodded at Quasi when the spasm subsided, who helped her to stand up. Relaxing a little, she gratefully took his hand. They’d only managed to take a few steps away from the bed when Madellaine froze. Confused and afraid, Quasimodo could only gape at his wife. His wife’s almond-shaped blue eyes grew wide in alarm as she felt a warm flow of liquid fall from between her legs and splatter into a pool on the floor around her bare feet.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Quasi immediately demanded, unable to keep the note of desperation from creeping its way into his voice. He could barely manage to maintain his grip on the calm emotion he had more or less been faking for Madellaine’s benefit the last few hours. “Love, sweetheart, wh—what is it? What <em>is</em> that?!?” he held onto her as he looked down at the strange puddle in utter alarm. “Is it the baby? Has something h—happened?” Quasi stammered.</p><p>Madellaine exhaled shakily through her nose. She recollected what Esmeralda had told her once about the fluid that surrounded the baby and how she said it would break when her time was upon her.</p><p>“N—no,” she squeaked, soothing her husband by giving his arm an affectionate little pat. “My water broke.” She smiled nervously. “But it means the baby is coming and soon.” She tried to calm her racing, frantic breaths and felt like she was utterly failing in that regard. “I think we need to get Esmeralda.”</p><p>“I’ll go,” Alice offered, who faced Quasi with a stony glower as she insisted, having stepped into the room with fresh towels and a small wooden basin of cool water and a rag, likely to be used to wipe the sweat from Madellaine’s brow when the time came. “You need to <em>stay</em> <em>here</em> with your wife, boy. She needs you, kid.”</p><p>Alice raised her chin defiantly, as though silently daring the red-haired bell ringer to challenge her authority in this regard.</p><p>“B-but Alice, there’s a <em>storm</em> brewing outside!” Quasi protested, shaking his head forcefully. The violent thunderstorm had grown more unpredictable as the hours had come to pass. They’d heard the wind outside his bell tower loft circling like an animal. “You can’t even see five feet ahead of you in this rain, Al!”</p><p>Madellaine turned towards Quasi pleadingly and shook her head insistently, not wanting the older nun to go out alone in this awful weather.</p><p>“No,” she breathed through a gasping moan. “It’s too dangerous for you to go alone, Alice,” Madellaine whispered breathlessly, all the while clutching her stomach. “Please, at least take someone with you. One of the monks. Let Brother Paul go.”</p><p>“My dear child.” Alice clicked her tongue and shook her head, staring across the way at the bell ringer’s wife hopefully, trying to make the young woman see reason and logic. “Your husband needs to be here by your side.” She was not backing down. “I can <em>do</em> this. I’m perfectly capable of taking myself. Trust me,” she begged, tossing her wavy grey hair over her shoulders. “Lucien and I will go,” she added, her blue eyes twinkling lightly.</p><p>Still nestled in Quasi’s arms, Madellaine lowered her head and let out a pained whine as she felt another spasm starting up.</p><p>Uncertainty filled Quasi’s mind as he weighed the possible outcomes of either action. If he left his wife alone with Alice to fetch Esmeralda, given that he was younger, faster, nimbler, then Alice might be the only one to help her if the baby came sooner than expected, but if he let Sister Alice leave, then she could be lost in this miserable violent thunderstorm, or with the slippery wet cobblestones beneath her feet, easily trip, fall, and break or fracture a bone. Though she was quite spry for being fifty, he could not bear the thought of losing the woman who he considered as a mother to him when he had no other in his life.</p><p>He knew Alice was more than tough and capable, but the thought still plagued his mind and haunted him. He could feel Madellaine shudder within his grip as her breaths quickened. He knew she was fighting with every ounce of strength not to cry out in pain.</p><p>“Damn it, boy, please, just let me go and <em>do</em> this!” shouted Alice, losing her temper as she stomped her foot in frustration, placing her hands on her hips and scowling at him, furrowing her thin greying eyebrows in a frown.</p><p>Quasi blinked owlishly at her, startled. He’d never seen such brazenness and courage in the aging nun’s blue eyes before.</p><p>She reminded him of himself at times. He had to give her that. “Alright,” he begrudgingly agreed. “But don’t take any chances. Please take someone else <em>with</em> you, one of the monks, or Lucien as you said. If it gets bad enough outside, come back here.”</p><p>Alice nodded curtly and turned on her heels to go, disappearing down the winding stone stairwell without a word.</p><p>Madellaine waited until the nun had completely disappeared from their line of sight before resting heavily against Quasi’s form as she looked worriedly into his troubled pale blue orbs. “She’ll be alright. Alice is tougher than we give her credit for,” she weakly joked, though she hoped her voice possessed the conviction to sell the argument that she really wanted to make.</p><p>Neither of them knew just how long they waited for Alice to return with Esmeralda, but it felt like hours, an eternity, as Quasi helped Madellaine to lie down on their bed, swabbing at her sweat-soaked forehead with the cool washcloth, holding her hand.</p><p>As the storm raged on outside as the minutes dragged, Madellaine felt the pressure and strain of the baby moving downward in her abdomen. She arched her back and groaned.</p><p>She squeezed her eyes shut and threw her head back, grasping at Quasi’s gloved hand wildly.</p><p>“Where’s Esmeralda?” she begged tearfully through gritted teeth as she openly sobbed.</p><p>Quasi felt a surge of anger at whatever was causing his friend’s delay at appearing by his wife’s side. The only thing he could do for his love was to hold her hand and try to ease her fears. “Sh—she’s <em>coming</em>. She’ll be here <em>soon</em>, sweetheart,” he encouraged, though he himself was not at all sure of his words.</p><p>Finally, almost the minute the words left his mouth, Esmeralda knocked on the wooden beam of the entryway of their sleeping nook, poking her head through the curtain, her dark curly hair wild and wet with rain as she untied the flap and walked inside, shrugging out of her blue cloak, not even waiting to be invited, sauntering in like she owned the entirety of the tower loft.</p><p>Esmeralda began to make her way towards Madellaine. Her face was tired and careworn, but the seriousness of the way she walked made it clear that her friend’s well-being was the only thing that she was concerned about now. Though before she could so much as take one step further, Quasi rose off the edge of their marriage bed and stood towering to his full freakish height of 6’3, standing angrily in front of Esmeralda and blocking her way.</p><p>“Where have you been?” he snarled at her through clenched teeth, only barely able to contain his fury and fear.</p><p>Madellaine merely watched the midwife approach, relieved to see her and Alice at last as Alice led Lucien away downstairs.</p><p>Esmeralda pursed her lips in a thin line as she raised her dark eyebrows at Quasimodo and assumed a defensive stance, huffing in frustration and placing her hands upon her hips.</p><p>“Madellaine’s not the only woman in Paris having a baby today, as it so happens, my friend,” she snapped, informing the bell ringer haughtily in ire.</p><p>Quasi leaned forward to emphasize his point, so close to Esmeralda that the tips of their noses almost touched. “As far as I’m concerned, Esmeralda, my wife is!” he shot back, just as upset.</p><p>Esmeralda’s frown deepened. “You be careful how you talk to me, or I’ll turn around and you can deliver this baby <em>yourself</em>,” she warned in a threateningly low and dangerously husky voice.</p><p>“<strong>NO</strong>!” Madellaine screamed from their bed, trying to sit up and her arm outstretched as if she thought that could prevent Esmeralda from leaving. “Don’t go, Esmeralda, <em>please</em>,” she wept.</p><p>Swiveling her head around to face her friend and now patient, Esmeralda’s previously hardened expression and tone softened. She shoved her way past Quasi, jostling his shoulder in the process as she took Madellaine’s outstretched hand and squeezed. She brushed her dark hair off her shoulders and tried her best to supplicate the terrified young blonde. “Don’t worry.” Esmeralda shot Quasi a rather reproachful glower. “I won’t be leaving you, my friend,” Esmeralda told Madellaine kindly. “Oh, I just had to put your husband in his place,” she chuckled, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at quasi, who stood rooted to his spot, stupefied, and outraged as Esmeralda rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at Quasi. “I won’t be leaving you,” she reassured her, patting at her hand.</p><p>Quasi shot Esmeralda a pointed look as he returned to his wife’s side, eyeing their mutual friend almost in a threatening way, almost daring Esmeralda, or anyone <em>else</em> that came in to try to make him leave. Thankfully, the young Romani made no effort to remove Quasi or distance him from his distraught wife’s side.</p><p>“Is your little one ready to join us?” Esmeralda asked pleasantly in a cheerful tone, throwing back the quilts of their marriage bed to expose her patient’s body for her examination.</p><p>Madellaine swallowed hard down past the lump in her throat as she held on tight to Quasi’s hand and nodded in reply.</p><p>“I—I need to push, it...it's moved down in my hips, I...don't think I can wait,” she answered insistently as Esmeralda spread Madellaine’s legs, rolling up the skirts of her nightdress, Madellaine wincing in discomfort as Esmeralda used her fingers to check for the position of the baby before quickly withdrawing.</p><p>“Then by all means,” Esmeralda suggested. “Go ahead and push. You’re ready,” she said, pulling back her hand and resting it on Madellaine’s knee as she adjusted the leather straps from the canopy beams on her and Quasi’s bed, adjusting the stirrups that she and Phoebus had made in order for Madellaine to loop her legs through in order to give herself some support while she pushed, taking a moment to prop Madellaine’s head up against the mountain of pillows behind her, positioning her properly.</p><p>Madellaine blew out a deep breath and gave Quasi a pleading look as she pulled his hand closer to hers. He nodded to her with a fearful, nervous, but more than a ready smile.</p><p>Hastily, he perched himself on the edge of their mattress by her side, supporting her to side upright, keeping one hand on her back, giving her something strong to lean against. “Y—you can do this,” he encouraged in what he hoped was a quiet tone, though he could not seem to stop the warbling note of fear in his voice.</p><p>Madellaine nodded, unable to resist the urge. Her body called to her with an overwhelming urge to push that she had no wish to fight against. At this point, she just wanted the pain to stop and for their baby to make its way into the world.</p><p>She breathed deeply, grinding her teeth, straining against the overwhelming need in her body, her groan becoming a pained scream as she pushed through her pain. Her fingers squeezed onto Quasi’s hand with as much strength as the ex-circus performer could muster. He returned her strength and held fast.</p><p>“Push, sweetheart, push, I know you can do this!” he encouraged as she tended to her woman’s work, listening to her body. Madellaine relaxed against her husband’s shoulder, resting, and readying herself for her body’s next assault, tears streaming down her face as she wept uncontrollably against the harrowing pain, the intensity of it hurt worse than anything Sarousch had ever done to her. She labored long into the morning.</p><p>Each answer to her body’s desperate need to push brought a deeper need, her wails turning to cries and then finally, hair-raising screams as she began to feel the baby emerge from between her legs. Quasi did what he could, diligently sponging at her face with cool cloths, bracing her against the forces of her own ravaged body, trying to kiss away her pain, for what little good that did either one of them. As the end drew near, Madellaine stopped her brave fight.</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey, you’re almost there! Don’t stop,” Esmeralda added. “Stop crying and look into my eyes!” she commanded harshly. Her tone was harsh, but confident, and everything that Madellaine needed at this moment as she sobbed through the pains.</p><p>Hearing the confident sound of her friend’s voice was enough to pull Madellaine from the haze of agony she was in. She made eye contact with Esmeralda and tried to breathe deeply.  This was bloody <em>it</em>. Soon, she and Quasi would meet their baby.</p><p>A passing fear overcame the former circus performer for a moment, but then was replaced with the same steadfast determination she’d felt ever since she had married the bell ringer. The powers of existence and nature took over, and with strength left within her that Madellaine did not know she still possessed, she gritted her teeth and began to bear down hard, pushing her baby out of her womb.</p><p>The burning pain was worse than anything she’d ever felt in her entire life, worse than hellfire, but she did not let that stop her. Not with so precious a prize at stake. She propelled herself onwards, feeling the head begin to emerge between her legs. She saw a smile appear on Esmeralda’s tired face, and Madellaine took that as a good sign and kept on.</p><p>Madellaine was more than anxious to be finished and eager to greet the new life that the love shared between herself and Quasi had created. Gasping, she bore down again, crying out as she felt the burning stretch of the baby tearing through her.</p><p>Esmeralda smiled at Madellaine and Quasi both in amazement. “I see it, it’s coming!” she called out excitedly. “The top of the head is showing, bright red hair, too, just like its father,” she grinned, shooting Quasi a teasing little wink. “Keep going, it’s almost over, my friend, keep pushing, keep pushing!”</p><p>“Push. Push!” Quasi encouraged, a swell of excitement surging in his chest as he realized they were about to meet their child. He encouraged his wife, but there was no further need.</p><p>Madellaine, for the life of her, despite her strength and resolve, could not overcome the pain, nor control the demands of her muscles as they finally forced the baby out of her. He did not see it, though as she gritted her teeth and grunted with the effort to give one or two final good pushes, he could hear the slightest sound of release and one last scream from his wife, and their baby was finally born. His wife gasped and collapsed back against the pillows, searching for breath with an exhausted smile on her face that was drained of color as their child’s cry filled the tower loft.</p><p>Her ordeal was over. She had successfully birthed his baby.</p><p>Tears of joy flowed freely from Quasi’s eyes as Esmeralda held up a scrunched and squalling little face to meet its parents.</p><p>The vision was a true sight of loveliness. “You are a mama and a papa, my friends,” Esmeralda announced happily, “to a beautiful baby girl! Oh, but she <em>is</em> beautiful,” she told the new parents with pride, as she turned away for a moment to calmly sever the cord and clean the baby off with Sister Alice’s help.</p><p>“I—I have a <em>daughter</em>,” Quasi breathed breathlessly, hardly daring to believe it. Quasi breathed an audible sigh of relief. His child and wife were safe. Alice stepped forward and gingerly laid the tiny infant in Madellaine’s outstretched and waiting arms. Quasi quickly skirted around the mattress to take them both in his strong embrace. Madellaine’s happy tears matched his own as their welcomed their newborn little girl into the world after a long day. Madellaine cradled the newborn infant close to her breast, sighing with the contented unconditional love of a mother finally holding her long-awaited child after nine months in the womb.</p><p>Quasi gingerly reached up a trembling thumb and forefinger to delicately peel back the wrappings of the swaddling of blankets Esmeralda and Alice had wrapped his daughter in, to reveal a bright pink face, already sleeping. Quasi’s heart melted as he looked at her, his precious child, his daughter, his little angel.</p><p>Her short red hair was vibrant and bright under the dim lighting amongst the candles lit throughout their sleeping nook.</p><p>Her eyes were closed but when they would open later, they would show a pair of bright sky-blue eyes that came from both her parents. Her little lashes fluttered slightly against her plump cheeks. “She’s beautiful,” Quasi choked out in a breathless voice full of emotion as he cupped his gloved hands around his daughter protectively. “Just like her mother. She looks like you, she’s cute,” he murmured lovingly as he kissed his wife’s forehead.</p><p>Barely able to control her happy sobs of relief and euphoria, Madellaine reached for Quasi’s face. “I love you,” she whispered ardently as Quasi held his wife tightly, his heart almost bursting out of his chest at the thought of the little family the two of them had created, and how much he adored this young woman.</p><p>“I love you too,” he vowed, kissing her cheek, before turning to look down his nose at their daughter in his wife’s arms.</p><p>So enthralled she was in enjoying in her daughter along with her husband that Madellaine did not feel the commotion at the foot of her and Quasi’s bed as Esmeralda dressed her for the bleeding that would follow for a few weeks after giving birth.</p><p>Quasi could not bring himself to take his eyes from their glowing faces, nor his arms from around his wife and daughter.</p><p>He brought his wife’s fingers to her lips and kissed them. “We haven’t chosen a name yet for our beautiful little girl,” he patiently reminded his wife as Madellaine rested against him, looking drained and utterly exhausted, but smiling in the way that only a new mother could.</p><p>Throughout the duration of Madellaine’s pregnancy, the two of them had considered a long list of suitable christenings for their child but had finally decided that it was best to wait until the baby arrived, feeling certain a name would stand out once they finally held their child in their arms.</p><p>Madellaine paused and considered the dozens of names flitting through her mind as she cocked her head lovingly to the side, regarding her precious daughter with loving pride.</p><p>“I think I know exactly what her name should be. Sophia,” Madellaine boldly declared, peeking at her husband out of the corner of her eyes, returning her tired but radiant and sparkling blue eyes to her baby daughter. “Named after my mother’s middle name and Little Sophia up there,” she stated quietly, jerking her head upward to motion to the third floor mezzanine above their heads where Quasi’s brass bells hung, waiting faithfully to be rung each morning and night. Easily the littlest and one of the oldest bells in the church, Little Sophia had always been Quasi’s favorite and Madellaine’s too when he had introduced her to his beauties.</p><p>Quasi smiled at the perfection of his wife’s suggestion. The baby seemed to glorify in her newly appointed namesake as she wriggled and cooed with delight in her mother’s gentle arms. 

A glowing smile like that of a warm sunset graced the proud new father’s face as he rested his head against his wife’s blonde hair, his blue eyes studying the baby that their love had created with no small amount of fascination and awe in his burning bright blue orbs.</p><p>“Sophia. Sophia de Barreau, I love it,” he murmured quietly, letting the name fluidly roll off his tongue as he tested it, already liking the way it sounded.</p><p>He beamed as he looked at his precious daughter and his loving, adoring wife. “You are the most amazing woman that has ever graced this world, my love,” Quasi passionately swore as he trailed a gentle trail of kisses down the slope of Madellaine’s temple and onto her cheeks until he found her lips, kissing them.</p><p>She practically melted into his soft, loving grasp. Her body spent and her heart full, Madellaine allowed herself to relax against Quasi’s broad chest, the fatigue of her labor and delivery catching up to her. 

Quasi rested his hand softly against their new little bundle of joy, sheltering his wife in the crook of his arm as she loosened her shift in order to feed their child, considering himself the luckiest man alive in the entire City of Lovers today.</p><p>Once the baby’s stomach was full, and Madellaine could fight against the onset of sleep no longer, Quasi gingerly lifted baby Sophia from his wife’s arms and happily took charge of their new daughter’s care, letting his wife rest against her pile of pillows, already fast asleep the second her eyelids fluttered shut.</p><p>He knelt slightly to kiss her forehead. He would sit by her bedside, holding their newborn daughter while his wife slept and recovered.</p><p>“Sleep, my angel,” he bid his lovely wife. “When you wake, we’ll introduce our precious girl to her grandfather and Alice and the rest of our family waiting downstairs,” he whispered quietly in excitement and anticipation as Madellaine drifted into her well-deserved sleep, the smile tugging at her lips as she rested against the pillows saying all that she currently lacked the strength to voice herself.</p><p>That she could not have been happier and at peace. And neither could he. As the raging storm outside continued to wage war on the elements, and his family slept, Quasi held Madellaine and Sophia in his protective embrace.</p><p>He would watch over his wife and child through the night, keeping them both safe, and thanking God for the treasures that a monster like him had been blessed with.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Epilogue</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Eight Years Later</strong>
</p><p><strong>LITTLE</strong> Sophia whirled around on her heels, having to stand on her tiptoes to see through the bustling crowds of the winding streets of the market. There was a shift in the din of people going about their day doing their morning shopping, but somehow, that made it more awkward for her parents to navigate through the crowded mess.</p><p>When it was crowded, you took in no information about anyone, they were just…things in your way. Moving, smelling, awkward, and rude things, especially to the bell ringer’s daughter. Now, the faces of the Parisian crowd were looking at Sophia de Barreau scornfully and hatefully. She <em>felt</em> it, their piercing stares burning a hole through the back of her skull, eyeing her red ‘devil’s hair’ with a critical interest as they parted to make way for her parents.</p><p>Most of the crowd didn’t want to go <em>near</em> her Papa. In fact, most were afraid of her father, often parting like the Red Sea for Moses whenever the gentle giant of a man dared to venture out from their home, the towers, and come with her and Mama into the marketplace. Sophia didn’t understand nor have a grasp on why her father was so feared throughout the city by the other townspeople.</p><p>Sure, he looked, well, <em>different</em>, but he was the nicest man in the entire city of Paris, had a wonderful voice for telling her stories at nighttime when she was entirely too wound up to sleep right away, and a pretty white smile that made her Mama blush, no matter what. She liked that about her Papa.</p><p>The little eight-year-old bristled at the way the simple-minded townsfolk always treated her father and her mother. Sophia knew they were thinking about her. She could almost hear the peoples’ thoughts and read their minds, just judging by the admonishing looks they shot her. <em>Judging</em> her.</p><p>Judging her Mama and her Papa.  Judging them all, yes, but mostly her, this little eight-year-old girl cute as a button that otherwise went unnoticed in this throng of people.</p><p>Perhaps it was her curly red hair that cascaded in loose curls to her shoulders and tied with a pretty blue ribbon that caused them to stare, or perhaps it was due to the fact that she was struggling to keep an eye on her mother and father, both of whom who had stepped away for a moment to haggle with a vendor over the price of six eggs to get them through the week. Sophia stifled her groan of anger, sighing.</p><p>Whenever her parents got going, they would be a while.</p><p>She tapped her foot restlessly, looking to the left and right, hoping to spot any sign of Monsieur Clopin, the King of the Court of Miracles. He usually only came to the town square of Notre Dame on Fridays and Saturdays, his colorful caravan parked just outside the baker’s shop, and entertained the children.</p><p>His puppet shows were always worth a watch, and the man told wonderful stories. Her favorite, of course, is the one about her Papa.</p><p>“<em>Little Sophia</em>.”</p><p>A ghostly call left the eight-year-old timorous. It seemed like a series of old female voices chorusing to her in whispers and screams that she couldn’t decode from whence it came in this crowd. Though, much to the girl’s surprise, the bell ringer’s daughter’s feet began to move of their own accord, away from the marketplace and towards the Rat Hole. A place which her parents, particularly her mother, forbade her to go, stating it was no place for a young girl such as herself.</p><p>Nevertheless, despite her parents’ warnings ringing in her eardrums, her mind screaming at her to turn away, it was as if she were no longer in control of her own body. Her feet soon led her over the stone bridge and towards the River Seine, near the Rat Hole where the worst of Paris’ seedier types tended to mill about. Sophia could no longer recognize anything familiar.</p><p>She didn’t know where she was, or how she got there, but she only knew the familiar headaches. The voices continued in her ears.</p><p>“<em>Sophia…Little Sophia</em>…<em>Sophia</em>…<em>come to me, sweet little child</em>…”</p><p>Quickly, beginning to grow more frightened, she turned back on her heels, played on by the crispy sounds of the September leaves scratching beneath her boots and it dawned on her that her mind was playing tricks on her. The headaches that sometimes came with her nightmares that had been growing in frequency over the last two weeks continued to plague her mind.</p><p>Always the same dream. The same old witch in her dream, her cackling laughter lingering. Evil, vile, and wicked. Shrouded in a black cape, and Sophia could never quite see the hag’s face. Her profile was always turned to the side, or much too far away for her to make out any details of the old woman’s features. Just that her back was stooped over and bent, and she wore a black cape and veil that managed to shroud her withered face.</p><p>“<em>Sophia</em>…” The voices came again, and everything became disorienting to the young redhead as the mysterious woman’s voice swirled on her greying consciousness. Sophia looked wildly around to her left and right. There was no one near her, at least not that she could see. She hoped to catch sight of the different women’s voices that were calling her name, but there were none.</p><p>Only the old fisherman near the bank, old Jacques, and his voice was entirely too deep and baritone to belong to that of an old hag, and even he was no longer a possibility as he packed up his basket and left, though not before offering the young redheaded daughter of Quasimodo and Madellaine a cheerful wave that Sophia could only half-heartedly return.</p><p>The voices did not return until Jacques’s silhouette was a pinprick in the distance as the older gentleman whistled to himself on the walk home.</p><p>“Bonjour, young little mademoiselle.” The voice came again. Sophia blinked rapidly and squinted into the darkness as the sun had begun to creep over the edge of the horizon. Her parents would surely be looking for her if they didn’t already discover her missing.</p><p>They were surely eager to finish up their shopping to return back to the cathedral in time to help Alice prepare supper. Phoebus and Esmeralda, her godparents, were supposed to come over with Zephyr, a young boy that was her age, older than her by two months, and kind of a pest, but she still enjoyed having the boy as a friend.</p><p>As she looked wildly to the left and right, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.</p><p>It was like something in the stories Papa told her nightly, or a gag from one of Monsieur Clopin’s puppet shows on Saturdays.</p><p>If she had been many years older, Sophia de Barreau would not have believed what she saw in the darkness just near the edge of the Seine. But she wasn’t older, as it so happened. She was eight years old. There was a witch at the edge of the riverbank of the Seine, staring right back at her.</p><p>The fading light was too dim to make out her features, but it was plentiful for Sophia to make in the shapes and the colors of the hag.</p><p>It was <em>so</em> obviously a witch, just like the witch that Papa had warned her of, in the stories. Apparently, a long time ago, an old witch had attacked Mama and had hurt her gravely, to the point where she had almost <em>died</em>. It was because of this incident that Papa and Mama cautioned their daughter to be wary of strangers, and to always approach with a cautious, guarded manner, and preferably not to go out alone, and <em>never</em> be out after sunset.</p><p>Awful things happened to pretty girls, adults, and little girls and boys alike, who were caught alone with no supervision out after nightfall passed.</p><p>Kids in town that came for the various afternoon Masses and evening Vespers had been talking about a witch wandering the far ends of the Rat Hole and taking up residence at the edge of the north side of the River Seine. A witch, or so Sophia was initially led to believe.</p><p><em>If only Zephyr were here, he surely wouldn’t believe this</em>, she thought, unable to help to feel a little bit disappointed.</p><p><em>She’s got twelve toes</em>, they said. <em>She can talk to the spiders and the worms and the darkling ravens. She’s eight feet tall and walks around with no clothes…She chased Gringoire’s boy Clovis into the river and that’s how he died. He drowned</em> <em>just last week.</em></p><p>The vivid and disgusting image of Clovis’s bloated body all blue and swollen soured the remnants of the mutton and bread loaf resting inside Sophia’s churning stomach from her lunch earlier today. She’d be lucky to have an appetite enough for supper by the time she got back to Notre Dame.</p><p>If she made it back at all. Sophia swallowed down thickly past the lump in her throat as the witch standing at the edge of the river spoke to her.</p><p>Her voice was raspy, ancient, and warbling, but confident and strong.</p><p>“You look like a nice girl, poppet. I bet you have a lot of friends, don’t you, child. A pretty little dove like you is bound to be a social bee,” the old hag purred from underneath her thick lace veil that hid her features.</p><p>Sophia blinked at the witch, swallowing dryly, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth. “Three, but Zephyr’s my best <em>best</em>,” she answered, a little hauntingly, taking a step and putting her hands on her hips. She looked at the ground, to the left and right, for a stick or any means to defend herself if need be.</p><p>Not that a measly tree branch would do her any good against a witch who was rumored to possess magical abilities, but she had to <em>try</em>, right?</p><p>Quasimodo and Madellaine’s daughter curiously watched droplets of water lingering on the short lurker’s chin. One quivered stubbornly on the cusp of the old hag’s weathered and eerily hairy chin.</p><p>“Where is he?” the witch asked in a honeyed voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.</p><p>Sophia frowned, remembering the loneliness she’d felt earlier in stopping by her godparents’ house with her parents, learning that Zeph had a cold and was cooped up in bed sick. His parents weren’t letting him out to play <em>or</em> to come to dinner at the church tonight, which was a real <em>bummer</em>.</p><p>Zephyr would have loved to be here along her side, seeing the proof with his own eyes that the witch the other kids had been talking about was really real. “In bed. <em>Sick</em>,” she mumbled tensely, furrowing her eyebrows.</p><p>She watched the shrouded witch hum to herself for a moment, with her steely grey eyes twinkling a moment later as she flipped back her veil.</p><p>Pasty, puffy features. Older than Zephyr’s mother and her own. Greying hair. She looked maybe Alice’s age. Black shoulder-length wispy, dead hair streaked with grey. Like a skunk. Sophia’s heart raced up into her throat and the little redhead fought against the urge to crinkle her nose in disgust as she looked. She wasn’t as tall or ugly or witchy as Sophia’s overactive imagination had pictured. Oh, there were plenty of wrinkles, sure, but no scars or warts.</p><p>Something about his words sparked a promise in this she-stranger.</p><p>“Oh, I bet <em>I</em> could cheer him up, Little Sophia! And give him some tea that would surely warm his insides and fix his nasty cold right up, dearie.”</p><p>Sophia hesitated, a tiny whine escaping the back of her throat as she bit down on her bottom lip and nervously peeked over her shoulder behind her. No sign whatsoever of her parents, or anyone else that she recognized, for that matter. It was a sweet offer, but Sophia knew her friend didn’t particularly like tea, nor did he like to drink or eat things without knowing what went in them. Zephyr was a little bit older, and a little smarter than her.</p><p>Sophia decided silence was the only apt response and stayed quiet.</p><p>“Would you like your fortune told, dearie? It's the least I can do for you, for being so <em>kind</em> to an old lady like me, keeping me company out here. The Rat Hole can get quite…<em>lonely</em> after a time, child,” the witch persisted, smiling at the young redhead in a surprisingly disarming manner just then.</p><p>It almost looked like a pout of sorts, with her bottom lip sticking out just so, aided by large almond-shaped grey eyes that looked almost rather beautiful.</p><p><em>Almost</em>. Nevertheless, despite the twinge of caution Sophia harbored in her heart and at the back of her mind, she smiled back. She just couldn’t stop herself.</p><p>It was the sort of warm smile that warranted another from the child. She hated feeling so cautious around someone new, but Sophia knew that it was all of the cautionary tales her parents had told her, warning her to be wary of anyone new, especially old women. Old women like this one here.</p><p>But perhaps she was a fairy crone come to help Sophia? She wasn’t exactly in a part of the city that she recognized. Maybe this woman could help her get home and back to her parents. Or at <em>least</em> point her in the right direction. She still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to her just now.</p><p>It felt as though her legs had no longer been taking directions from her mind and had moved of their own accord until she wound here at this moment. Perhaps…perhaps this lady had led her here, to keep her company?</p><p>“Just take my hand. And you should close your eyes, my child, for a moment, to be better in tune with the infinite. We can’t do these things without reaching out in the infinite. Whatever <em>that</em> means,” the old witch giggled, holding out a slightly gnarled and arthritic claw for a hand, her fingernails long, looking like they could easily gouge out Sophia’s blue eyes.</p><p>The little girl eagerly outstretched her hand, but then she paused and thought better of it. Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand back into herself while adjusting comfortably as she nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, doing a little nervous jig. She hoped someone would come.</p><p>“My—my papa told me I’m not supposed to talk to <em>strangers</em>…”</p><p>The old witch’s steely grey eyes flashed indignantly for a moment, wandering the edge of the River Seine, as though looking for something—or someone—before she turned back to Sophia and nodded.</p><p>She parroted the sentence back to Sophia under her breath. But then her smile snapped back along with her cheerfully disarming bright gaze.</p><p>“How very <em>wise</em> of your father, child,” the old crone chuckled. Her eyes remained in their soft grey-almost baby blue state, not unlike that of her own, or her mama and papa’s, they both had blue eyes. It was a comforting color, Sophia thought. The old witch spoke up again, inching a bit closer to the edge, and to Sophia. Sophia didn’t even realize she’d taken a faltering step backward until she almost tripped over a gnarled old fallen tree branch.</p><p>Sophia swallowed a lump in her throat, her neck bobbing, as she began to hear her own desperate breath speed up as the air left her lungs.</p><p>With another turn of her boot heels, she made to flee, only to come face-to-face with a poorly crafted wooden arrow notched squarely between her eyes, and Sophia stopped in horror to stare at its roughly pointed edge.</p><p>Zephyr, God bless that boy, had somehow managed to sneak out of his home and was now aiming at her, and it was the sight of her dear friend that made her feel safe. He eyed the bell ringer’s daughter for a long moment, full of suspicion, his light green eyes twinkling, swathed in the moonlight.</p><p>Sophia blinked, feeling her face drain of what little color was left in it, to begin with.</p><p>Sophia at this point could only return the favor of staring right back. When his arms lowered and the weak-looking string of his bow his father had made for him to practice retracted, Sophia heard herself breathe an audible sigh of relief, a hand clutching at fistfuls of her sky blue blouse and matching overdress.</p><p>“H—how did you get out?” she gasped in surprise.</p><p>“I snuck out,” he answered with a light shrug of his shoulders. “But who’s that with you?” Zephyr growled, the eight-year-old blond boy’s wary and skeptical voice filled in.</p><p>Though Sophia heard her friend’s breaths stutter and catch in his throat as his kind green eyes that resembled his mother’s landed upon the stooped-over form of the witch clad entirely in black lace.</p><p>She did not answer, choosing instead to peek back over her shoulder towards the witch, whose expression now remained impassive, and if Sophia wasn’t mistaken, looking quite annoyed that the moment was interrupted.</p><p>The witch took a step forward, causing Zephyr to instinctively fling his arm out in front of Sophia as he stepped forward in the hopes of protecting his friend. Sophia shivered, but not necessarily from her fear.</p><p>“Well, allow me to introduce myself, children, shall I?” the witch cooed in a cackling voice. “You can call me <em>Baba Yaga, </em>pets. I’m a fortune-teller, dears.”</p><p>The witch shook as if in a shiver at the exaggerated words, her excited giggle prompting an involuntary snort and a laugh of disbelief from Zephyr as the young-blond-haired boy turned to look at the petite redhead.</p><p>“Children, meet Baba.” She cupped a gnarled, wrinkly hand to her breast and extended it as if in a show of peace. “Children, meet old Baba. And now we know each other and therefore, we are no longer <em>strangers</em>…”</p><p>Sophia smiled, her initial wariness and concern slowly melting away as she leaned forward on the balls of her heels to try to get a better look.</p><p>“I guess so.” She crinkled her nose and raised her eyebrows as she looked around the edge of the bank of the River Seine. “But…” She hesitated, biting her bottom lip, not sure if she were overstepping by asking, but the question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “How did you <em>get</em> here, madame?” she squeaked in a breathless sounding voice.</p><p>“Oh well, the storm we had last night just…blew me awayyyyy,” the old witch who Zephyr and Sophia knew to be called Yaga exaggerated, looking around the River Seine and towards the remnants of what looked like a ruined gondola.</p><p>Sophia blinked owlishly. That hadn’t been there before.</p><p><em>When did that get there</em>? She pondered curiously, wracking her brain, and trying to remember. Had she ridden in that the whole way down here?</p><p>But Sophia had no time to ponder it as the witch looked to her again, her smile widening even more hopefully. “Would you like your fortune told, child?” she pressed, repeating her original question from a moment ago.</p><p>“I—I guess so,” she stammered, hearing Zephyr draw in an excited breath as she yanked herself out of Zephyr’s hand, not even noticing the boy had grabbed it and squeezed in an effort to try to protect her from harm.</p><p>Zephyr bounded forward on his heels before Sophia could towards the old woman, speaking to her in a low, keyed-up voice. Though what was being said, Sophia couldn’t say for sure, but the boy’s voice carried underneath the bellowing water of the River Seine as well as the soft wind.</p><p>And then, he motioned for Sophia to join the two of them. Sophia blew out a puff of air with her cheeks as she steeled herself, walking forward slowly with her head stiffened and held high, not wanting to show any fear.</p><p>Sophia was entirely too apprehensive and distracted to notice the sewing needle, right up until the split second it pricked into her fingertip.</p><p>“<strong>HEY</strong>!” she shouted, jerking out from the witch’s iron-hand grasp, very nearly hyperventilating as her chest seized in terror as a droplet of bright red blood welled quickly out of her thumb. “<strong>THAT HURTS, LADY</strong>!”</p><p>“Sophia, <em>relax</em>!” Zephyr yelled over her shriek of pain and surprise, but the boy was grin-laughing at her and cradling his own bleeding thumb. “It’s her <em>payment</em>. One drop of blood and she tells our fortunes, Barreau!”</p><p>Sophia’s pale face reddened in anger as she stomped her foot in frustration.</p><p>“<strong>BUT YOU DIDN’T SAY SHE WAS GONNA TAKE MY BLOOD, ZEPHYR</strong>!” she shouted, hoping that an adult heard her screams.</p><p>Black spots crept at the edges of her vision as it spun for a moment, as Sophia gasped to draw in a few good breaths of air, trying to will her racing heart to calm down. She shut her eyes and doubled over. Her tongue felt drier than clay.</p><p>Sophia let out a low moan when Zephyr’s uninjured hand cupped at the back of her neck, squeezing down gently to comfort his friend.</p><p>“Three questions, dearies,” The ancient witch warbled croakily. To everyone’s relief, Sophia missed it when the withered and wrinkled hag hungrily lapped at the blood from the needle with her tongue. “Just three.”</p><p>Zephyr furrowed his blond brows in a look of confusion that made Sophia think of her godfather, Phoebus, whenever he looked like this. He glanced over to the witch and then looked behind him towards Sophia. “Three questions, huh? For her and for me? For each of us, lady?” he asked.</p><p>“Three.”</p><p>“This is <em>silly</em>,” Sophia moaned, gritting her teeth. She glared outright at Zephyr, at the truly frightening-looking visage of this old crone, and then at her bleeding thumb. Oh, Mama and Papa were going to be so <em>furious</em>!</p><p>It wasn’t her thumb’s fault. If anything, Sophia blamed her stupid feet.</p><p>They’d walked of their own accord and had now gotten her into this mess, and now look! She was lost, cold, hungry, and her thumb was bleeding, pretty badly too, and it really <em>hurt</em>! Oh, god, <em>oh</em>, <em>god</em>, Sophia desperately hoped with all her might that that old sewing needle wasn’t covered in <em>germs</em>!</p><p>That the witch had at least the good sense to have washed it first. Sophia really didn’t want to get an infection and die. Not this young, not here. It felt like Sophia had said and experienced this before, but that was the bizarre part, in the young child’s mind. She couldn’t remember why or when.</p><p>But before she could mull it further in her mind, Zephyr spoke up.</p><p>“Am I gonna be rich and famous, lady?” Zephyr blurted out, his green eyes sparkling with a hopeful and yet mischievous twinkling glimmer.</p><p>“<em>She</em> will,” the witch called Baba said in a reedy voice, looking directly at a still-glowering Sophia, pretending she didn’t see Sophia glaring literal daggers into her friend’s skull. “By those that she associates herself with.”</p><p>“<em>Huh</em>?” Zephyr blinked in confusion and shared a confused look with Sophia, who shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t understand any of what was happening. He frowned as he looked back towards the stooped witch. “What does <em>that</em> mean, lady? I—I don’t understand,” he stammered quietly.</p><p>“It means as it means, boy. Nothing more, and nothing less.”</p><p>Zephyr stuck out his bottom lip in a slight pout and frowned at the witch, his upper lip curling in disgust, pulling back slightly to reveal his teeth.</p><p>“Zephyr,” Sophia squeaked in a timid and meek tone as she tugged on the sleeve of his slightly too big white linen shirt. “It’s cold, it’s late, and I’m getting really hungry. My parents are going to be so <em>angry</em>,” she choked in a horrified voice as her blue eyes widened in shock and awe. “Can we <em>go</em>?”</p><p>But no matter how hard Sophia tugged pitifully at the boy’s shirt sleeve, he was stronger than she was. He firmly planted the heels of his boots in the ground and refused to budge, much less listen to a good head of sense like hers. Sophia sighed in frustration as Zephyr continued asking questions.</p><p>“Am I ever gonna get <em>married</em>?” he teased in a mocking, jovial lilt, sticking his tongue out at the very idea and crossed his arms, almost sounding disgusted by the very notion and concept of stupid, dumb <em>marriage</em>.</p><p>Old Baba examined Zephyr’s tanned and slightly sunburnt countenance for a long time, her grey eyes flashing steely and almost dangerous. It was beginning to make the pair of children a little bit unnerved.</p><p>“You will not marry, boy,” she declared loudly with the same reedy and apathetic tone as she had just spoken to him before, breaking the awkward silence that lingered in the air between the two children and her. Zephyr startled, going between watching Sophia nervously and back to the witch as she clutched onto her dark, lacy shawl, tightening it around herself.</p><p>And for some reason that Sophia didn’t understand, they hadn’t left yet and gone back to the more civilized part of the town to search for their parents, who surely had to notice both the children’s absences now.</p><p>“Why not?” Zephyr insisted, his little fists balled up at his sides.</p><p>“Zephyr, <em>please</em>—” Sophia pleaded, continuing to tug on her friend’s arm in the vain efforts to pull him away from this woman, who seemed kind enough. She wasn’t really sure if she bought into this whole fortune-telling business, but her godmother, Esmeralda, did it as well. And the way the two witches seemed to go about telling their fortunes was drastically different.</p><p>Zephyr’s mother used a variety of tarot cards, tea with special herbs to read the leaves, and crystal balls, and summoning her inner energy to practice the complex art of divination, whereas this witch seemed to just…</p><p>Well…<em>talk</em>. Sophia didn’t understand it at all, but maybe there were different planes of magic? But the witch spoke, pulling her from her thoughts, leaving the bell ringer’s daughter with no time to ponder it further.</p><p>“She does not want you,” the witch interrupted Zephyr, who looked like he was about to spew an insult that his papa and mama would have scolded him for. Though they all knew Zephyr learned his words from Phoebus. Her clearwater grey-blue eyes squinted in strangely malicious intent. Sophia swallowed hard. “She does not want you in the way that you want her.” The witch finished and leaned heavily against her walking stick.</p><p>“Huh?” Sophia was growing increasingly more and more confused as she shook her head, her lips twisting upwards as she looked at Zephyr. “Um, Zeph, what’s this lady talking about?” she squeaked in a faint whisper.</p><p>The witch heard the bell ringer and circus performer’s daughter, despite her best efforts to keep her voice low so that only Zephyr heard.</p><p>Sophia squeaked and let out a stumbling step backward as she darted behind Zephyr, who was a good head or two taller than her, for comfort.</p><p>Baba’s grey eyes flashed, narrowing to slits as she regarded the pair of children. “I speak of the one left from an unfinished carving, little dove,” the witch continued. “His <em>love</em>. His <em>fiery</em> <em>light</em>,” she sneered mockingly, chortling.</p><p>Now, Sophia <em>really</em> didn’t understand.</p><p>What was more puzzling, however, as she cautiously peeked at her friend out of the corner of her eyes, was seeing the way that all of the colors drained out of Zephyr’s tanned cheeks, rendering his complexion looking pallid and a sickly-grey color. He went from being downright infuriated, to looking utterly shellshocked, before ebbing into an obvious grimace of a smile that was definitely forced.</p><p>“This is <em>stupid</em>,” Zephyr growled, much to Sophia’s confusion, since he was the one who’d asked this witch, this Baba character, the first question.</p><p>Zephyr grumbled something inaudible under his breath about getting out of here and turned away from where Sophia and the witch stood.</p><p>“<em>One</em>.” The witch announced, pointing an arthritic claw at Sophia. Zephyr was already stalking his way back up the hill, calling Sophia’s name.</p><p>The words left her lips without her brain’s permission. “Will I leave this city? I want so much more out of life,” she breathed out shakily, transfixed almost by the winding, slow circles her finger makes. “I want to see other lands, big mountains, big cities, big oceans. When does it happen?”</p><p>“<em>Soon</em>.” That was all the witch said as she regarded Quasi and Madellaine's daughter with a pointed look the young eight-year-old redhead wasn't sure what to make of.</p><p>Relief washed over the young redhead, and Sophia quickly snapped out of her haze and came back to herself, blinking owlishly at the old crone.</p><p>“But not forever,” old Baba continued to inform her. “You were born here and so you shall die here the same—” She caught Zephyr mouthing the words <em>Run</em> at her, and Sophia’s brain felt like it was shutting down, much less her body. Her blue eyes started leaking hot, gushing tears. “—In the arms of your lover—” Down, down, her lungs and belly numbing. “—cold and mangled, death hovering over you like a disease—” The witch’s pale, spindly fingers wound themselves tightly around the pale column of Sophia’s throat. “—left to <em>rot</em>—the daughter pays for the <em>sins</em> of the mother.”</p><p>“<strong>LET GO OF HER, YOU BITCH</strong>!” A rock sailed through the air, hitting old Baba against her right ear, and another one on her forehead.</p><p>“<em>Zephyr</em>!” Sophia screamed, both appalled at the curse word she knew he would be punished for saying if his parents ever found out, and for throwing a rock at a frail old lady, even if the fortune she told was quite dire.</p><p>The witch clad in black shrieked, high-pitched, unable to dodge the second and much bigger rock that hit her cheek and caused a bleeding gash.</p><p>Sophia could faintly hear Zephyr’s voice and felt a strong, warm, clammy hand envelope hers, tugging the young girl back up the hillside. Strangely enough, her legs began working again, pumping, and they were full speed-running over the cobblestoned bridge, the very same bridge, as it so happened, that Zephyr’s father had once gotten shot on by an arrow while trying to escape after saving the miller’s family from their surefire death.</p><p>Zephyr glanced around furiously for any sight of their parents, seeing no one. “What was <em>that</em>?” he cried out, coming to a skidding halt, almost causing Sophia to barrel right over him from behind and cause him to trip.</p><p>Pain throbbed within Sophia’s hallowing throat as she gulped desperately for air and whimpered, breathing erratically and tugging on her blue ribbon and letting her loose curls fall to her shoulders as she entangled her fingers in her hair and tugged on them hard enough to release the fear.</p><p>It hurt, but Sophia welcomed the pain. “Sophia?” Zephyr clasped onto his friend’s shoulders, getting Sophia’s attention after a moment or two.</p><p>He talked soft and stead to the young redhead, holding up his wet and reddening face, never once cracking a joke. “Sophia, look at me. I’m right here. I—it’s over, it’s all <em>over</em>, do you understand?” he gasped out, tired.</p><p>But it’s not. Sophia knows it, and she will know it deep down in the recesses of her heart as it fades and howls. This strange encounter will live on in her memory forever. She peeked down at the river bend and watched, awestruck, as the old witch grey eyes widened, almost looking gleeful.</p><p>And then the strangest thing happened. She—she <em>waved</em> at her.</p><p>Sophia waved back. Though as she turned back around, so enraptured by thinking over the strange encounter she and Zephyr had just had that she ran straight into something hard and chiseled that sent the poor girl reeling backward and shaking her head in wide-eyed confusion and hurt.</p><p>“Oh, <em>no</em>,” Sophia whispered, horrified, feeling as small as an insect as the strength in her knees gave out and buckled beneath her.</p><p>She collapsed to the ground, her knees digging into the cobblestones, the grit of dirt kicked up from other Parisians and passing travelers settling into the material of her chemise and overdress.</p><p>Sophia found herself craning her neck and looking upward into the towering, seething, and frantically worried taut face of her Papa, his piercing blue eyes flashing indignantly and dangerously as she looked up.</p><p>There was no doubt about it. Her father <em>and</em> her mother were <em>furious</em>.</p><hr/><p><strong>THE</strong> old woman stood at the edge of the riverbank, watching the strange scene take place above her head before her. After a moment, Baba turned away. There was a crooked smile forming on her twisted old features.</p><p>“Interesting,” she murmured lowly as she walked away into the mist.</p><hr/><p><strong>SOPHIA</strong> jumped back, muttering an apology with a bright pink blush covering her face, and waited for Papa to speak, almost wishing he would start shouting at her and get it over with.</p><p>His burning blue eyes looked at the coloring of his daughter’s cheeks with a strange and critical interest, but he looked away soon enough for it to not be too weird. A muscle in his jaw twitched and behind his eye as he finally turned back around to look at her.</p><p>“<em>Where have you been</em>? <em>Do you have any idea how worried your mother and I have been, Sophia?!?</em>” Quasi shouted angrily through gritted teeth, his voice carrying, not even waiting for an answer as he knelt and scooped up both his daughter and Zephyr by their waists and carried them under his arms, practically stalking his way back towards where his frantic wife and Zephyr’s parents were waiting near the corner of the baker’s shop for any signs of their children.</p><p>Quasi’s heart pounded rhythmically in his broad chest, hard drumming that he could hear in his ears. He was on edge, every nerve on his body on high alert. Every rustling of a fallen leaf or someone else’s footstep had the hairs on his body standing on end.</p><p>Discovering his daughter missing had been the only time in the bell ringer’s entire existence following Claude Frollo’s death and his wife almost succumbing from her stab wounds years ago that the tall hunchback had known the awful feeling of unbridled fear.</p><p>It was a terrible feeling that seized him, to turn around on the heels of his boots and find their daughter lost among the thicket of the crowd.</p><p>He’d stood there, frozen, blinded by this feeling of his new emotion.</p><p>“Quasi?” He’d remembered Madellaine speaking up, rushing to her husband’s side upon seeing the gentle giant almost sway on the spot, his terror consuming him and twisting his belly into knots.</p><p>His face had paled and turned an interesting shade of green. He looked like he was going to be ill. “What’s the matter?” his wife questioned urgently. Never before had Madellaine seen Quasi in such a state of panic. Not even the day of Sophia’s birth had he been this uptight. Something was horribly wrong with Quasi.</p><p>Madellaine gingerly outstretched an arm as if to steady her love, but pulled back her hand, unsure if that was a wise move in his current state.</p><p>Phoebus and Esmeralda and Clopin were instantly on the alert as well, with the three of them having spotted their friends near the baker’s, and had been hoping Madellaine or Quasi had seen any signs at all of Zeph.</p><p>“I can’t…” he’d begun, his words forming ahead of his thoughts. His blue eyes scanned the spaces near to him, still searching for Sophia. “I can’t find Sophia, she—she’s <em>gone</em>!” he spluttered, afraid to say the words.</p><p>Madellaine drew in a sharp breath, certain she’d heard him wrong. “What do you mean, she’s ‘<em>gone</em>?’” She demanded, the blonde feeling her heart tighten within her chest at the thought of her daughter’s possible peril.</p><p>“They’re <em>gone</em>,” Quasi informed his wife, his eyes searching his wife’s as if Madellaine was the only one in the entire city who could help.</p><p>Madellaine realized she had to calm him down, as she took Quasi by the arms. He did not resist or shirk away, though his body was trembling.</p><p>“We will <em>all</em> search. They cannot have gotten far,” she muttered, trying to give her hope despite her own despair growing within her heart.</p><p>“I will check some of the other shops nearby and head back to the church,” Phoebus offered, trying to be calm for Esmeralda and his friends. “I will order the city gates closed as well.” The golden-haired soldier gave his friends and wife a dutiful nod and set off immediately, already barking orders to a nearby soldier who happened to be under Phoebus’s command.</p><p>“I’ll inform the Archdeacon and Alice,” Esmeralda insisted, wasting no time in setting off back towards the cathedral, hoping to find them there.</p><p>“Come with me,” Quasi urgently told Madellaine. “We will look for them by the edge of the River Seine.” He began moving his distraught wife in the direction of the river, knowing the children liked to sit at the edge of the riverbank sometimes and count the ducks, especially in warm weather, or skip rocks.</p><p>As they rushed towards the Seine, Quasi could not help but see the tenuous thread of stability that his poor wife was clinging onto now.</p><p>Her entire world was falling apart. His own was not that far off from imploding, himself. He did not think he could bear the thought of any harm coming to his precious angel, or to Zephyr, for that matter, nor could he imaging the depressive abyss into which Madellaine would plummet if something had happened to their child. As they descended closer to the Seine, crossing over the cobblestoned bridge, Quasimodo felt Madellaine hand jerk almost violently out of his.</p><p>She was no longer following him at all. The towering bell ringer turned on his heels, only to be met with a heart-wrenching scene that tugged at his heartstrings and almost caused tears to prick at the corners of his eyes, stinging and marring his vision just then.</p><p>Madellaine stood a few paces behind him, paralyzed, and rooted to the spot, trembling, her hand clutching onto the edge of the bridge’s railing so tightly that her knuckles had gone bone-white with the effort to steady herself.</p><p>The rest of his lovely wife had gone ashen grey with utter helplessness and despair. Her chest heaved to catch the air for which she gasped. Madellaine stared at him, wide-eyed and horrorstricken, although Quasi was not sure if she could see him. “Where <em>is</em> she, Quasi?” she begged.</p><p>She did not wait for his attempt to calm her, but instead, raised her terrified eyes to Heaven and almost screamed. “Where is <em>Sophia</em>, Quasi?” she cried, choking on the sounds that rose from her throat so violently that Quasi was certain that it was all his wife could manage to try not to vomit.</p><p>He feared she might collapse as he rushed to her side and draped an arm around her waist, ready to catch her if she felt faint.</p><p>“She’s <em>fine</em>,” Quasi tried to encourage her. “You have to believe that, sweetheart. She has to be.”</p><p>Quasi tried to make himself rely on the same words he spoke to the mother of their lost little girl, though his tongue felt quite thick in his mouth.</p><p>“What if we don’t find her?” Madellaine stared at Quasi as if she were seeing him truly for the first time since this whole mess had started.</p><p>“<em>Listen</em> to me, darling,” he implored, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. Notre Dame’s bell ringer stared earnestly into his wife’s pained blue eyes. “I will find Sophia. I will bring our daughter back to you if it’s the last thing I do.” He did not even realize he was shaking with the seriousness of his vow. “I <em>promise</em>,” he vowed. Madellaine searched his eyes and numbly nodded.</p><p>Sensing that she was, at least for the moment, calmed down, Quasi gripped onto his wife’s hand and raced towards the edge of the hill of the River Seine, and drew in a sharp breath as he watched none other than Phoebus and Esmeralda’s adopted boy, Zephyr scramble up the hilltop.</p><p>And there was Sophia, following closely behind. His daughter was so preoccupied in looking back over her shoulder, toward the river, but at what, Quasi didn’t know, as when he strained his eyes to see, there was nothing there. He heard his daughter let out a breathy squeak as she stumbled over the top of his brown leather boot and fell backward.</p><p>Against his control, the bell ringer could feel the angry shaking begin in his fingers as his gloved hands curled into fists at his sides. He folded his arms across his broad chest and glowered down his nose at his daughter.</p><p>“<em>This</em> is what you were doing while your mother and I searched all over for you, Sophia?” he questioned angrily, stooping down to pick up his daughter by his index finger and thumb as he wound a strong arm around her middle and carried her under his arm like she weighed little more than a sack of flour.</p><p>He did the same thing for Zephyr before Phoebus’s son could bolt.</p><p>The bell ringer angrily stalked and stomped his way back up the hillside, to where Madellaine frantically lay in wait alongside Esmeralda, who’d returned by her friends’ side to let them know the Archdeacon and Alice had seen no sign of Sophia or Zephyr back at the cathedral and was growing worried.</p><p>“While your mothers feared for your lives, and we all went out of our <em>minds</em> trying to find you, do you have <em>any</em> idea the <em>stress</em> and the <em>worry</em> you’ve caused us all?” Quasi shouted, his voice rising with utter contempt.</p><p>Without even thinking, Zephyr piped up nervously in mistaken defense of his friend, not wanting Sophia to take the fall for this, still tucked underneath Quasi’s strong arm, though the boy squirmed and fought wildly like an angry dog being carried by its master, trying to get away.</p><p>But Sophia’s father was not having it. if anything, his ironclad, firm grip only tightened.</p><p>“I—it was the <em>witch</em>, sir, she—<em>she</em> did it!” he wailed, showing Sophia’s father his bleeding thumb that he’d been sucking on to stem the flow.</p><p>Quasi glanced down his nose, a lock of his thick wavy ginger hair falling in front of his eyes as he eyed Phoebus and Esmeralda’s boy disdainfully. His rage rivaled Madellaine’s as he came to the top of the hill as he regarded the boy who sometimes put fanciful notions into his daughter’s head.</p><p>She already had a bad habit of sneaking off that came from the boy.</p><p>“What <em>witch</em>?” he growled, his head whiplashing sharply upward to look towards the bank.</p><p>A stab of fear pricked at his heartstrings as he thought it might be that Russian witch who’d attacked his wife years ago.</p><p>When he saw no one, he began to grow even more incensed, thinking t was just a ploy by Zephyr for attention. He let out a low warning growl from this throat and had to stifle his smirk of triumph at hearing the boy whimper a little.</p><p>“There’s no one there. Do you think <em>lying</em> to us is <em>funny</em>, Zephyr? No one is <em>talking</em> to you, boy, so <em>stay</em> <em>quiet</em>,” Quasimodo snapped angrily. “I suggest you not say another <em>word</em>, you're in enough trouble as it is, so I wouldn't make things worse for you than they already are,” he growled through gritted teeth as he plucked Zephyr out from under his arm and held the squirming boy towards Esmeralda, who darted forward to take her son from her friend’s iron grasp.</p><p>Madellaine turned towards her daughter, disbelief on her pallid face. Her lips pursed into a thin line as she kept her hands placed on supple hips.</p><p>“Do you have <em>any</em> <em>idea</em> how <em>worried</em> we’ve been about you, Sophia?” she shouted, unable to finish her thought as the horrors of the possible dangers that could have threatened both children came to her mind’s eye. “<em>Anything</em> could have happened to the two of you and we would have never known about it!” she shouted, her fists clenching in her wrath as her face drained of color. “<em>Anything</em>!” Madellaine screamed as she turned away and stalked back towards the direction they had come, towards home. “When we get home, you’re going straight upstairs. You <em>won’t</em> be getting any supper,” she snapped, lifting her chin held high, still seething in her fury as Esmeralda quickly echoed a similar punishment for her son’s behavior of sneaking out.</p><p>Sophia quietly accepted her punishment without much protest as she glanced towards Zephyr, who raised a hand to his lips and shot her a smile.</p><p>The look in his twinkling green eyes was clear.</p><p><em>It’s alright</em>, he seemed to say to her, as their gazes locked, and their eyes had a conversation of their own.</p><p><em>You can have some of mine</em>, the boy silently tried to say. <em>We can share</em>.</p><p>Sophia’s blue eyes sparkled, gleeful, the whole way back to the church, not even midnight that her father was carrying her, or hearing the hushed, horrified whispers of other Parisians as her father stalked his way down the street. She didn’t care.</p><p>As long as she had him by her side, then maybe getting in trouble with her parents wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.</p><hr/><p><strong>THE </strong>nave was silent hours later when the moon in the sky was at its peak as Little Sophia snaked her way down the winding stone stairwell of her parents’ tower loft, their home, and peeking down the long aisle of the nave.</p><p>The little girl swallowed heavily and took a moment to lift the skirt of her nightgown, shivering as the soles of her bare feet touched the cold black and white checkered tile floor beneath her. But wearing shoes made noise, and she was already in enough trouble with Mama and Papa as it was.</p><p>She didn’t want to get in trouble a second time for coming down at an ungodly hour of the night and trying to sneak food from the kitchens. She really had <em>tried</em> to go to sleep when her father had ordered it, no bedtime story as a punishment for sneaking out, and she couldn’t see Zephyr for a whole <em>week</em>.</p><p>Sophia had tried to put the incident with the witch from her mind, but as she lay tossing and turning in her bed, it was all she could think about.</p><p>And then, coupled with the fierce groaning and rumbling of her belly, she knew that she needed food. So, this led her to sneak downstairs.</p><p>The young redhead cautiously kept her eyes peeled again for anything out of the ordinary. The cathedral was still the same way as it had been that afternoon when she and Mama and Papa had set out for the market. Gloomy from the storm but no less comforting, Sophia thought.</p><p>A wave of relief ran through her nerves and she smiled as she practically skipped her way to the kitchens to look for something to eat. By the time she returned, Little Sophia had more or less worn herself out.</p><p>But as the little girl looked down at the small serving tray in her hands, she couldn’t have been prouder of herself. The main course was the leftover buttered broiled mutton and roasted duck her mother had made last night, some Brie cheese, a crust of bread, and a cup of fresh goat’s milk sat next to the food.</p><p>Sophia sank into a slow kneel just before the wide oak double doors of the cathedral, swiping the hunk of cheese off the plate and ripping it in half, leaving one half for her ‘guest’ should the old fairy crone decide to come to visit her. She wanted to know more about old Baba’s fortune-telling.</p><p>Her slender hands carefully curled around the chipped handle of the doors and she strained herself so hard, grunting with the effort to open the door slowly, that her little arms ached in the end as she fought against making any kind of noise that would alert her parents to the fact that she was out of bed. She pawed her loose red bangs out of her eyes while peeking out into the streets of Paris. The tray was left outside by the topmost stone step.</p><p>Sophia nervously stood by the entryway for a few minutes after, watching for any signs of black lace and a walking stick that was taller than the witch had been. Her frown furrowed, growing heavier. Her eyes started to sting at the sadness, thinking of that poor woman out alone in the cold rain and being soaked with no place to call home started to tug at her heart.</p><p>The young eight-year-old thought about and pondered heavily while watching the horrible storm that threatened a deluge upon the city of Paris.</p><p>Eventually, she came to a mental debate with herself on whether or not she should run up and check in on Zephyr, who was staying in a spare cloister cell for the night to allow Esmeralda access to herbs from Alice’s stores to better treat his cold without her having to pay the inflated prices for them in the marketplace. Zephyr was smart and always knew what to do.</p><p>Sophia trusted her best friend completely. But… Zephyr was still sick, and her parents would scold her for disturbing his sleep, not to mention she wasn’t allowed to see him for a solid week as part of her punishment. Then again, Mama and Papa would be <em>especially</em> angry with her if they found out she was leaving food for any strays or maybe a wandering old witch, so Sophia ultimately swallowed her anxiousness and trudged back to her room.</p><p>The rest of the evening was spent beneath her bedcovers, with her favorite fairytales, trying to learn her words her Papa was teaching her every day at breakfast, just like his father and his master had used to do for him. But Sophia dedicated more time to simply staring at the wooden rafters above her head than at the colorful pictures in her storybooks, thinking it wasn’t <em>fair</em>.</p><p>When sleep took her away, Sophia found it uncomfortable and fitful.</p><p>The howling of the wind outside brought in cold gusts of wind through the drafty tower loft that made her shiver and huddle underneath her mossy green duvet for warmth as much as possible, but when the rage of nature did finally settle for a few hours, she did succumb to something like rest.</p><p>She dreamed of talking cats and their little village full of people, only this time, they spoke in gibberish and walked backward, but none of that was as surreal and persistent as the figure of the witch who kept popping up.</p><p>The young girl became so agitated by the unexpected and unexplained appearance of the same woman by the River Seine that she groggily blinked herself awake and stared upright at the entryway to her room.</p><p>She slept in what had used to be a spare storage space, but the moment she was born, her parents converted the space into a room for her.</p><p>Something blurry and black was standing in front of the threshold that separated her intimate little bedroom from the rest of her parents’ home.</p><p>A wave of fright wracked through the young girl, jerking the bell ringer’s daughter fully awake as she sat upright and flung her blankets off the edge of the mattress, along with her favorite doll that Esmeralda had made for her, that sailed across the little room in the complete opposite direction.</p><p>Sophia furiously rubbed the crusted sleep from her eyes that had accumulated during sleep, blinking again as the shape became crisper before her very eyes. She felt a surge of hope and excitement soar within her chest.</p><p>“You <em>made</em> it!” she almost squealed, to which she immediately clamped her hands over her mouth as Old Baba grinned at Little Sophia.</p><p>The witch was perched on top of her dresser, her short, stout legs dangling over the edge, not touching the floor at all, somehow completely dry despite the raging war of the harsh elements of the vicious storm outside.</p><p>In her lap was the tray that had been offered to the witch as an invitation, as she was gobbling down the food with a gusto that matched Zephyr’s whenever his favorite breakfast of fried bread and eggs was served.</p><p>The witch called Baba wasn’t finished with her food as of yet, but she couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. The little girl hopped off the edge of her bed and sprinted across the hardwood floor, almost tumbling right into her unexpected visitor as she stood up on her tiptoes to fully wind her arms around the witch’s neck, feeling strangely glad to see her, despite the strange fortune she’d told her and Zeph down the by the Seine earlier.</p><p>She sensed the witch was just lonely, and perhaps wanted a friend to talk to, yes.</p><p>Baba was about to crack a joke about the spilled mutton and duck now squashed between the two, but she instead decided it was much more fun to loop her own larger arms around the fellow-not-a-stranger-anymore while snorting out a light cackle that echoed throughout the bell tower loft.</p><p>She suddenly wasn’t so angry at the weather anymore.</p><p>The witch was looking ahead of her, though her grey eyes rolled in their sockets to regard the young child in her peripherals. The witch’s thin, wormy pink lips stretched into a delighted grin while the hag cackled softly.</p><p>“You’re here!” Sophia squeaked breathlessly but looked around her room for any sign that the noise had woken her parents. No movement.</p><p>It almost felt…surreal. She frowned. Usually, the slightest noise roused her parents, especially her father, from whatever they were doing.</p><p>“…Why can’t they hear you?” She asked, looking back towards the wizened old fairy crone with a perplexed, baffled face, her blue eyes wide.</p><p>Old Baba just chuckled to herself as she ripped off a chunk of bread and cheese with her teeth, taking her time chewing and swallowing before answering. As she swallowed, she smiled down at the curious young child.</p><p>“Only <em>you</em> can see and hear me, Little Sophia. You and that other boy,” she added, referring to Zephyr as almost an afterthought, scrunching her nose in disgust as she allowed the edges of her gnarled fingers to ghost along the surface of the gash on her cheek and above her left browbone, remembering how that little-blond-haired whelp had thrown stones at her.</p><p>“W—we <em>can</em>?” Sophia squeaked as her pale blue orbs widened.</p><p>“Uh-huh,” the witch mumbled as Baba nodded, one eye on him and the other slowly rolling off to look towards the entryway of her room, as though half expecting one of her parents to burst through at that moment. “You can. And you want to know <em>why</em>, my sweet little Sophia?” she chirped.</p><p>The girl nodded, unable to tear her gaze away, utterly entranced. Baba snorted and poked at her nose. “Because you are <em>special</em>, my child.”</p><p>Sophia blinked, but she started to giggle and smile with her eyes almost scrunched closed. She knew deep down, this old woman was kind. Though it did not stop her from shooting a fleeting glance around the room, still confused as to why nobody was coming, why her parents weren’t awake.</p><p>“You’re sure they won’t hear you, madam?” she asked. Behind her, the witch cooed as she hopped off the dresser, leaning against her walking stick and brushing the palms of her hands on the skirts of her black robes.</p><p>“Not while I am around, little one. I have many tricks up my sleeves,” she said, her tone sounding slightly less jovial than it had before.</p><p>“Like…magic tricks?” she breathed, eyeing the witch in wonder. Baba was smiling even wider at her question, the swells of her cheeks pairing well enough with her flashing teeth. Now, Baba definitely resembled the descriptions in the stories her Papa would tell her of the witches of old tales.</p><p>“Sure. Like magic tricks.” She reached out an arthritic claw to ruffle Sophia’s wild red curly hair while her rogue eyes regarded the breakfast tray, peering at the neglected bread that Sophia had not managed to scarf down.</p><p>Sophia was more than happy to shove the loaf of bread into the witch’s arms. The girl watched the older woman eat, curious. “So…where do you live? D—do you really live in the—in the Rat Hole, madame?”</p><p>Baba paused, a bite of bread halfway to her mouth. Shockingly enough, she popped it into her mouth and swallowed it all with one gulp, licking at her teeth to get the remnants of her meal out. “A-ha! Yes…no, well sort of…I go where the <em>wind</em> takes me, you could say, little pet. The storm that Paris had a few days ago and even earlier today blew me here…to <em>you</em>…” she laughed softly, freezing up completely while awaiting an answer.</p><p>Sophia let out a low hum but could feel her cheeks start to burn as their shared gaze lingered. “Well, ah, the—the storm seems to have let up now, so maybe you can go back out and see what’s out there?” she offered.</p><p>Sophia was by no means implying that she wanted this surprise visit to end, nor was she suggesting she did not want Old Baba in her life anymore. Not at all. She just felt terrible that a neat magic woman had to live in a literal dump like the Rat Hole alongside the other vagabonds and criminals, the worst scum of Paris. That was no place for a madam like Baba.</p><p>But Sophia didn’t feel as terrible then as she did now, watching the witch’s smile fall into something of a cross between a heavy frown and a scowl. Baba chewed on her lip while awkwardly playing with her gnarled claws. “Oh. Do you <em>want</em> me to go away, little dove?” the witch asked softly.</p><p>“Oh, n—no, I—I’m terribly sorry, I don’t want you to go!” she squeaked. She’d been afraid of this, that Baba would misunderstand her words. It was clear by the older woman’s expression that she had done that.</p><p>“I’ll stay for as long as I need to,” came the soft warble that sounded to the bell ringer’s daughter like a promise. Sophia nodded, almost eagerly.</p><p>“Zephyr doesn’t believe in you. Th—that you’re not <em>really</em> a witch,” she blurted out, recalling the secret conversation she’d had with them following a lengthy shouting match from both of their parents. Zephyr had snuck out of his room to see her after her parents had already fallen asleep.</p><p>From that phrase, it made the magical fortune teller and Seer sound less of a corporeal being and more of her own childish figment of imagination—a desire for self-expression and for the promise of adventure.</p><p>But it was true, and she could hear the heavy sigh the witch gave off. “He is <em>wise</em>, what a wise boy, indeed. Yes, yes, wise, but he doesn’t believe like you do, Little Sophia. It’s what makes me all the more special,” Baba mumbled, suddenly looking troubled whilst looking toward the door. “Your little friend sees the world as humans always do, just like everyone <em>else</em>. He fears monsters that he cannot see.”</p><p>Baba’s posture was stiffening up again, a dark expression flitting across her face. Which both startled and troubled the young redhead. Sophia pulled a face as she thought about it.</p><p>“Do you think he could ever?” Sophia breathed, thinking that Baba looked quite old. She was expecting a nod or maybe even a soft little cackle.</p><p>But when the witch refused to budge despite Sophia desperately tugging on the overly long sleeve of the woman’s black woolen robes, Sophia let her go and looked at her helplessly. She couldn’t even begin to fathom what child in all of Paris wouldn’t want to be friends with a magical witch who could disappear in the flash of an instant and tell you your fortune.</p><p>But now that she thought about it, maybe Zephyr <em>did</em> have a point…</p><p>“I’ve kept you too long, dearie. The hour is late, and you wouldn’t want your parents to catch you up and about places where you ought not to be,” came Baba’s warbling voice. “Especially your lovely little mother, dear.”</p><p>As Baba shuffled her way towards Sophia’s bedroom door, Sophia froze. She wasn’t sure if the familiarity that had seeped its way to the surface of the old fairy crone’s voice when she spoke about Mama just now was a good thing. The question tumbled out of her lips before she could stop it.</p><p>“D—do you <em>know</em> Mama?” Sophia gasped out in a breathless whine.</p><p>It seemed to take the older woman an eternity to find her voice, and when she did summon up enough strength on her throat to manage an answer, her voice was distant. Almost cold and devoid of any emotion.</p><p>“Once. A long time ago. She and I are…something of old <em>friends</em>.”</p><p>Looking up, the hag’s words snapped Little Sophia back into reality. She was correct, she could already hear faint movement outside of her room.</p><p>It meant that Papa was up and would ring the bells for Lauds soon to signal the start of another day.</p><p>Sophia bit on her bottom lip, not wanting her to go, but recognizing she had to. “Thank you, for—for visiting. I—I don’t get many visitors here at home, so this was nice,” she whispered faintly as Baba continued her slow shuffling towards the door. “It was lovely to meet you. Go that way,” she jerked her thumb and finger to the left. “Go down the south tower steps. Mama and Papa almost never use that stairwell. You won’t be spotted. I hope,” she squeaked. “I—I’m sorry about Zephyr, h—he shouldn’t have hit you with those <em>rocks</em>,” she added, sticking out her tongue and stomping her foot in frustration. “If you are ever in need of food or shelter, please come down to the kitchens on the main level of the sanctuary and I will help you, o—or get Sister Alice, a nun here, she’ll help.”</p><p>“That is very generous of you, my dear, I shall keep your offer in mind. Now, I must go.” She smiled a disarmingly ominous smile Sophia’s way, leaving the young child rendered speechless as a shroud of mist seemed to emanate from the floorboards beneath where the old fairy crone stood.</p><p>As Sophia turned back around to wave once more, having wandered to the other side of the room to climb back into bed just in case Papa came to check on her, the little redhead stopped short in her tracks, because her room was now deserted. Her bedroom door hadn’t even been opened at all.</p><p>It was as if the old witch had never visited her there in the first place.</p><p>“Strange,” Sophia whispered, climbing back into bed, just as the door creaked open, and her mother and father poked their heads in the door.</p><p>She stiffened as she sat up straighter against her mountain of pillows as Papa approached her bedside slowly and reverently, a strange expression on his slightly misshapen face and in his blue eyes. Sophia swallowed hard.</p><p>She sincerely hoped Papa wasn’t still angry with her for earlier. But to her immense relief, she let out a breath as her father perched himself at the edge of her bed and reached up a hand to pat at her shoulder lovingly.</p><p>“Hello, sweetheart,” he said, his tenor-like tone wafting through her open bedroom like a soft melody. “Did you sleep well?” he asked quietly.</p><p>Well. He didn’t <em>sound</em> as angry with her as he did earlier, so she guessed that was a good sign. Sophia nodded her head, electing not to strain her voice, as her throat was beginning to hurt from all the screaming earlier.</p><p>She studied her father carefully as he scooted a fraction of an inch closer. Her mind was cast back to that day out on the balcony terrace, as he’d been in the midst of scrubbing off three grotesque gargoyle statues that he’d named Victor, Hugo, and Laverne, and that the gentle giant sometimes talked to. Her mother swore that the gargoyles could come to life and talk, but Mama had never seen it for herself except for once when she was sick.</p><p>Quasimodo had been in the midst of scrubbing lichen off of the tip of Laverne’s cracked stone wing when her daughter had asked him if he thought there was a God, and if there was a God, why He’d made her Papa look the way that he did. She remembered how afraid he’d suddenly looked.</p><p>But now, he didn’t look quite as lost and dismayed. He’d told her that he wasn’t sure <em>what</em> God’s reasonings were, but he was confident that such a divine deity existed, as he’d been blessed with the gift of her Mama and her, and that was more than good enough for a simple man like him.</p><p>His smile seemed warm and kind and real now. “How’s your throat, darling?” Quasi asked, a brief flicker of concern passing through his features.</p><p>“It’s okay, I guess,” Sophia croaked, awkwardly tracing the line of her throat with her fingers. It wasn’t, not really, it still really <em>hurt</em> from her screaming at the witch and Zephyr earlier, but she didn’t want to have her father or mother start fussing over her. Not at this precise moment, at least.</p><p>In truth, Sophia de Barreau was beginning to feel more than a little bit embarrassed at all the trouble and worry she and Zeph had inadvertently caused by accidentally wandering off and straying from her parents’ sights.</p><p>Quasi nodded, reaching up a gloved hand to stroke a lock of her vibrant red hair that was so like his off her forehead.</p><p>“You gave your mother and I a hell of a fright there, little lady,” he said carefully, his lips turning down in a frown, his brows furrowing. “Please don’t wander off alone like that again,” he asked, looking pained. “It would <em>kill</em> your mother and me if anything bad happened to you or Zephyr. Take one of us with you.”</p><p>Madellaine nodded and moved to stand at the edge of Sophia’s bed. She shot her husband and child a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be alright, Soph, everything’s going to be just fine, you’ll see…” her mother continued, but Mama’s bright sky-blue eyes had assumed a glazed, faraway look now.</p><p>Sophia wasn’t really sure if Mother was really talking to her or Papa or more so trying to reassure herself and talk herself down from her current state of worry and agitation. Zephyr, surprisingly enough, poked his head in through the door, clutching something wrapped in a large brown burlap sack. He held it with all the awkward care and loving attention of a young father with his newborn baby and shuffled his way towards Sophia’s bed.</p><p>“I—I brought this for you,” he said proudly, his cheeks flushing high with color as he looked towards Sophia’s parents and swallowed down hard.</p><p>If they had remembered their punishment to Sophia of not being allowed to play with Zephyr, much less speak to the boy, for a week, it was forgotten by now, as the blond-haired adopted son of Phoebus and Esmeralda de Chateaupers unwound the burlap sack and pulled out her doll.</p><p>Sophia smiled wanly at the sight of her doll as Zephyr came up to her, as carefully as her father had (Sophia hoped that not everyone would do that, they were all approaching her like she was some kind of wounded animal, ready to turn and bite at any moment just because she was in the middle of catching a cold from having been caught out at night in the chill.)</p><p>With great effort, she wound her arm around the doll and squeezed, a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She let out a sigh and rested against the crook of her father’s elbow as he wound a strong arm around her shoulders, while her mother smoothed her red curls off of her shoulders.</p><p>There were so many things that Sophia wanted to say to Papa, and Mama too, for that matter. To tell them about the witch that had visited, but she doubted the adults would believe her when she told them the truth.</p><p>Perhaps it was best that she kept her visitor a secret for the time being. Children were often invisible to the old. And Sophia was much too tired, and her sore throat protested at the thought of talking too much. So she just lay in her bed, glad to be alive, that the old witch hadn’t killed her and in the company of her loving family. She listened as Mama’s voice grew fainter, as she talked about making fried bread and sausages for breakfast.</p><p>Her godparents, Phoebus and Esmeralda came in and joined her parents and their son, followed by Grandfather, Mama’s father, with the help of Alice. Sophia was pleased to see everyone here, though she still felt guilty for having everyone within the cathedral who cared about her <em>worry</em> so much.</p><p>And she was still mentally and physically exhausted from her ordeal.</p><p>Eventually, her eyes became heavy, and she returned once again to the dark world of sleep, a tiny smile twitching the edges of her lips up in her sleep as her father held her, though this time, as long as she had her parents by her side, there would be no dreams of evil witches and disgusting monsters.</p><p>Not when she had the feel of her father’s strong arms wrapped around her, and her mother’s gentle voice to call upon. She would never be alone, not really, not as long as she had her Mama and Papa by her side.</p><p>And that was more than good enough for her.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Annd that wraps up book 1 of this Disney-Twisted-ish version of Notre Dame and the HoND universe. But I'm happy to announce that Book 2 starts another chapter in their lives, though Book 2 focuses primarily on Sophia and Zephyr's friendship/relationship as they grow up, look for it here soon titled 'The Devil's Daughter.' </p><p>I had actually written "Devil's Daughter' a while ago, and accidentally deleted it and never got back around to re-posting it, but it has since overgone a massive overhaul as I've changed most of the remaining plot, with new characters, new villains, etc, which I will post here in a second. </p><p>I've been working on the artwork of a live-action Sophia that I hope to post to my DeviantArt page soon to accompany the first chapter of The Devil's Daughter.</p><p>Seeing as how I wrote this original story some time ago, I saw a few structural nitpicks and other things I hadn't noticed before, and have been refining the sequel to this story while at the same time finishing up this one. Of course, everything is better with hindsight, and the truth is, I wrote "Ordinary Miracles" with no intention of going forward. </p><p>The epilogue was supposed to be the end, but now, after all this time, I find an itch to continue Sophia's story and exploring Quasi and Madellaine's lives as parents after years of marriage, the summary of book 2, which you can find below:</p><p>The Devil's Daughter Summary: The infamous bell ringer of Notre Dame, Quasimodo, and former traveling circus performer and reformed thief Madellaine has spent the last 20 years happily married, with a grown daughter of their own, 20-year-old Sophia de Barreau, a promising young woman with untapped potential who wants more than their quiet, mundane life in the bell towers of Notre Dame de Paris have to offer Sophia. </p><p>Though she is happily engaged to Phoebus and Esmeralda's adult son, Zephyr, who followed in his father's footsteps and became a soldier, when news of Zephyr going missing in action during a battle reaches Sophia, her world is turned upside down as she finds that she was left with so much more than just his memory. </p><p>Still reeling over the disappearance of her beloved fiancé, what happens when Sophia meets an unusual man who saves her life one day, whose kind words could heal her wounds and help her to love again. Broken souls have a way of finding each other when needed the most. If Sophia could give this new stranger a chance, he would give her the world, though catching the eye of a wealthy Duke leads to serious consequences…</p>
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